


Fly Away Home

by AzaleaBlue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, F/M, Fluff, Healer Hermione Granger, Mystery, Smut, pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzaleaBlue/pseuds/AzaleaBlue
Summary: Healer Hermione had carried a secret in her heart since she was six. A secret, which if disclosed, could take away everything she held dear. Auror Ron was working on a high-profile case, the success of which, was crucial for the safety of the Wizard population. When their paths intersected one stormy, cold night, the unexpected suddenly became inevitable.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Special mention: callieskye for taking that trip and sending us those amazing pics which inspired this fic in the first place.
> 
> Story co-creator credits: jenn582 It was her idea that started it all. Thanks, Jenn, for letting me write this for you! Special kudos for suggesting the title!
> 
> First Chapter Beta-credits: idearlylovealaugh She is absolutely brilliant- but you guys know that already!
> 
> First Chapter coming on the 10th of September!

Hermione Granger, daughter of Potioneer John Granger, Hogwarts alumni from the House of Rowena Ravenclaw, had always preferred her solitary country life in Yorkshire. Little in her life had changed since she was fifteen. It was quiet and monotonous-  _just the way she needed it to be_.

She had lived through the Second Wizarding War, attended school during a Death Eater regime and fought in the Battle of Hogwarts when Harry Potter returned with his best mate in tow. Thanks to her astounding command on magic, she survived the dark year with minimal injuries, secretly tending those who were unable to heal themselves.

 _'Don't draw attention to yourself, my child,"_ her father had instructed the first time she boarded the Hogwarts Express. The perfect daughter that she was, she had done exactly as asked. It wasn't easy- her head of unruly curls always made her stand apart in a crowd, her intellect always seemed to shine through. But she tried her best- tried not to get into the limelight, to keep a low profile, and succeeded. _Well, almost._

She was brilliant in every subject she took, but her focus had always been on the delicate art of potion brewing. It was only during her seventh year that she realised Potioneering wasn't her calling-  _Healing was_. The time after the War was tough. It made perfect sense to pursue Medicine; it allowed her to help others-  _and herself._  When St Mungo's started recruiting again, she was part of the new batch of full-time Healers.

Hermione never had many friends; in fact, she barely had any. Not that it bothered her. She cherished the company of her books and her cat, Crookshanks. Nothing changed even after she left school and joined St Mungo's, first as a student and later as a Healer. She was still a loner, partly out of habit and mostly out of need.

Those who knew her unanimously agreed that she was brilliant-  _but she was also a little strange._  Some were sceptical to approach, and others, annoyingly curious. Very few actually tried to befriend her. Not that it made her particularly happy, but it definitely made a lot of things easy.  _After all, no one could be trusted with the secret she carried in her heart…_

Hermione knew a lot, and read a lot more. But what she didn't know was that someone was about to barge into her life and change everything- someone, who had been her batchmate at school but was merely an acquaintance-  _someone called Auror Ron Weasley._

* * *

 


	2. Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-creator credits:@jenn582  
> Beta credits: @idearlylovealaugh

_Auror Department, Ministry of Magic- Early hours of the morning_

"Know what, Harry? We should just start living here," Ron declared as he placed two steaming mugs down on the centuries-old table. Some tea splashed out onto the wood, adding a new stain to the many left behind by the hundreds of bone-tired Aurors who came before them.

Harry pushed aside the pile of parchments scattered in front of him and grabbed one of the mugs, relishing the warm brew before replying. "Yeah, it'll save us approximately five seconds of Apparition time, but sure."

"Wanker," grinned the tall redhead as he sat himself down on the chair opposite and stretched his long legs in front of him. His muscles were sore and cramped and he couldn't recollect when he had last had a proper shower. He was also sure he smelled downright filthy.

"I was hoping to get one decent night's sleep in a place that had something akin to a bed-" he added, gesticulating with his hands in the air for emphasis, "-I've been freezing my bollocks off the past few days in that shack and Merlin, that stench!" he shuddered at the memory.

"That bad, eh?" Harry grinned.

"You didn't see that place, did ya? Smelled like Mundungus had a rave party with his friends there if ya ask me!"

Harry scoffed into his cup, "That's one gross image for such an early morning, Ron!"

"Yeah," Ron replied as he took another sip and waved at Matt, a teammate, who walked in and took his place at the table with them.

"Ron prefers incognito missions to stakeouts. Remember when he disguised as the homeless bloke outside the Leaky? He got a few 'interesting' offers that night," provided the newcomer before he joined Harry, who literally spilt his tea down his robes this time, laughing.

"Gits, both of ya," grumbled Ron, trying hard to hide his grin. "Bloody dumb idea, dressing me as a homeless bloke," he added, frustratedly aware of his reddening ears as he remembered the women who had approached him that night, not to mention that insistent Muggle bloke.

"Hey guys, they got it!" shouted Brandon from the next room. Matt glanced at the two of them and left the table in a rush. Ron couldn't be gladder about the interruption; his non-existent love (and sex) life was turning into a running joke.

"Should've taken up that offer, Ron. At least, you'd have got some action for once," quipped Harry once Matt was out of sight.  _There it was, that git of his best mate had to bring it up again._

"Funny coming from the king of charms, Mr. Harry Potter himself," he scoffed.

"Oi! At least I have a girlfriend!" grinned Harry, winking.

Ron snorted. "Only because my sister happens to like speccy gits."

"So you mean, you'd've had a better chance if I had a sister who liked lanky, freckled morons?"

The duo laughed aloud, but their demeanors changed immediately as Matt strode back in, a scroll in his hands.

"Any good leads on those fuckers?" inquired Ron, any and all signs of mirth from moments ago gone from his features.

"This is a list of the patients who show anything remotely similar to what we're looking for. The Hospital wasn't being very cooperative. Patient confidentiality protocols and such."

"A bunch of crap," retorted Harry angrily, shoving aside their half empty cups as Ron took the scroll and unfurled it on the table.

Ron glanced through the information quickly, striking off names after reading through the descriptions of their ailments till they had a much shorter list.

"These five-" he indicated on the list, "-get men to keep an eye on them. Any of them could be our guy. Totally discreet vigilance, no tipping the bastards off. And I need information about everyone who meets them. Healers, nurses on duty, visitors, ward boys- everyone." Matt nodded before rushing out of the room, barking instructions. Ron turned to Harry, his features grim.

"Those bastards will either try to rescue the bloke -"

"- or kill him before we get to him," Harry finished.

...

_Hours later, St Mungo's_

A lone witch sat at the bench in the pristine white room filled with rows upon rows of non-descriptive lockers. The lime green robes lay limp on her lap as she stared unseeing at the polished wooden floor.

She rubbed the back of her left hand with the palm of her right to generate some warmth into her otherwise cold skin and forced her breathing to even. She couldn't afford to lose grip on herself, she told herself firmly,  _not here_.

"There you are!"

She looked up at the sound, and a woman in her late twenties walked in to take the place next to her.

"It's not your fault," stated the newcomer, touching her gently on the arm. Hermione managed a slight nod.

"Yeah-" she whispered, not believing the words at all. "How's-" she gulped, "How's the family?" she asked quietly. More guilt and pain tore at her heart but she tried to keep her expression neutral.

"They aren't here yet," replied Martha, and Hermione managed another stiff nod.

"I'm really sorry to ask this of you, but- could you please meet them when they come down? I don't feel too well." Hermione desperately hoped Martha would agree; she was the only one Hermione could trust. The quiet moments before Martha sighed and gave a small, understanding nod were hard, to say the least.

She managed a smile, "Thank you, Martha. Really, I mean it."

"You shouldn't let these affect you so much, Hermione. It's a part of our profession."

Hermione knew Martha was right. She had been a Healer for a good seven years now. She ought to have grown immune to suffering- concentrating only on treating the patient, and on occasions when something went wrong despite all their efforts- accept it as inevitable. But Martha didn't know why it was so hard for her-  _Martha didn't know a lot._

"I need to leave," she declared, and perhaps it was only because Martha had known her for years that the witch wasn't caught off guard at such an abrupt declaration.

Leaving her seat, she strode quickly towards her locker.

"When's your next shift?" asked Martha from behind her.

Hermione paused, drawing in a deep breath to calm herself and glancing at the few articles that lay in her locker before she replied.

"Actually, I was planning on taking tomorrow off, " she stuttered, fisting the small bag in her hand tightly.

"Hermione! You can't possibly do that again! You know how Healer Peter-"

"I know, I know, Martha! I just can't- "

"Hermione-"

"Please, Martha! Don't tell him, I'll- I'll call in sick. Take my shift tomorrow? Please? I'll make it up next week…" she pleaded and continued to watch till those green eyes softened.

"Alright, I'll do it. But promise me you'll take care of yourself?" urged the slightly older woman. Hermione sighed in relief.

"I promise, thank you..." she replied earnestly and waited for Martha to leave the room before quickly emptying all the contents of her locker into a bag which was otherwise too small to hold even a couple of books.

...…

_Auror Department, Ministry of Magic_

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" yelled Ron, pacing around the room while a small group of men stood close to the wall. He couldn't believe that all their precautions had failed. Harry sat in his chair, features grim, brows furrowed in contemplation.

"Those bastards were ahead of us! All. This. Fucking. Time!" he repeated, running his fingers through his hair, fisting handfuls of it in frustration. They had considered this, but those arseholes had to be freakishly good, he thought grudgingly, to hoodwink a band of top Aurors.

"Who was on duty?" barked Harry and the entire team of five took a few paces back. Ron couldn't blame them; a raging Harry wasn't a pretty sight. He couldn't blame his friend either. It was a huge loss and the team should've been more careful.

He noticed Patrick shift uncomfortably before the bloke cleared his throat and spoke. "Harry- I, I was."

"Did anyone come down to see him?" he asked cutting Harry off.

"No," Patrick shook his head vigorously, reminding him briefly of Kreacher and his floppy ears. His empty stomach growled at the memory of all the food the ageing elf cooked for them whenever they managed a day off. He hadn't been able to go home for four straight days now. Harry had only dropped in once to dump their bags of dirty laundry and pick up the fresh sets Kreacher kept ready. With the latest setback, Ron knew, he wouldn't see a decent meal or his room at the Grimmauld Place for the next few days at the very least- not till they found a better lead.

Patrick, or Rick as he was called, barely twenty and the youngest in their team, was speaking again. "-just his Healer- a witch, a couple of nurses and later, his wife and daughter."

"Wife and daughter?!" he asked aloud before he turned at Harry, who mirrored his surprise.

"Yeah!" replied the bloke eagerly, "Kid's barely ten, I guess."

The two friends met each other's eyes for the briefest moment, sure they were thinking the same thing. _Did they get the wrong guy? These bastards usually never had any family._

"Cause of death?"

"Healer assumed the poison was flushed from his system. Apparently, they were mistaken. He relapsed when they were sure he could be discharged in a day."

"How can a Healer make such a mistake?" Harry mused aloud.

"Unless they are relatively new?" suggested Matt.

"But she isn't," contradicted Rick, still visibly excited. He flushed realising Harry and Ron were both watching him intently. "I-I mean, she's one of their best."

"Where's she?" inquired Ron.  _If the Healer was so good, how could she make such a dumb error? Unless there was more to it..._

Rick licked his lips consciously and looked between him and Matt. "I don't know-" he added in a small voice, "I tried tracking her right away but she- she's gone."

_..._

_Later in the day, office of the Head of Aurors_

"We got the Portkey and Ricky should be here any minute."

Harry glanced up from the documents he was reading just as Matt placed an old, crumpled beer can on his table.

"Hmm," he replied still reading from the sheets that outlined all the information of their only, and now deceased, lead. "When's this one due?" he asked, gesturing at the Muggle object.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Good," he replied with a shake of his head before he went back to the parchments. He was slowly developing a headache, reading the same lines over and over. _What could they possibly have missed?_

"Can I ask you something?"

He glanced up, his expression changing from serious contemplation to mild curiosity. "Yeah?"

"What's the point of Ron going for an interrogation when one of us could handle it? I mean, she's just a Healer. The boys could do with him leading the raid if we manage to get to the gang."

Harry straightened his glasses and slapped his ever-unruly fringe to hide the scar, more out of habit now than anything else. "Well, I understand. His mere presence boosts the morale of the boys in a raid. But we both decided that he should be the one to get this."

"But we don't know for sure if she is involved at all, I mean, it's just a hunch, innit? And-" he looked mildly sceptical, as if unsure whether he ought to say the rest, "-Ron's not exactly diplomatic, is he?"

Harry chuckled.

"No, I guess he isn't," he agreed before his features turned grim, "but he's the best strategist we've got. This isn't as simple as it seems. An unplottable house in the middle of nowhere? And her disappearance after that mysterious death? No, there's definitely more to this. Even if she's not involved, she'll be at risk. Ron is the right guy for it."

"Right." Matt looked as if he hadn't given it much of a thought and Harry couldn't blame him. Few guys had gone through what he and Ron had. From a very young age, they had learnt to see more in what seemed normal to others. And now after seven years on the force, it had become second nature.

"Is he back?" he asked and Matt checked his watch.

"Should be any minute now."

_..._

_Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Yorkshire_

The rain lashed at them with all its fury the moment their feet touched the ground, mud and rotting leaves caking their boots making it incredibly hard to move forward.

"Bloody hell, we should've checked the weather before arriving!" Ron yelled to be heard above the ruckus of the downpour. He pulled out his wand and cast an Impervious charm on himself and his companion. It worked on their clothes but did nothing for the visibility which was blurry at its best.

"Now what?" screamed Rick from somewhere on his left.

"Find a shelter first!" he barked in response as he trudged forward, careful not to slip and land on his arse.

The younger bloke followed in his wake as he manoeuvred his way to take cover under some trees. Finally, after a torturous five minutes walk, they stood huddled under a large English oak. It sheltered them to an extent but large water drops dribbled down the leaves, pausing a while before cascading down their impervious clothes. They were still drenched to their core and cold, the gusty winds making it worse.

Ron ran his fingers through his soaked hair, cursing his luck. It was beginning to get dark too; their surroundings lit up occasionally when lightning flashed across the sky on the far horizon. He counted the seconds between the flash and the loud clap of thunder before adjusting the rucksack on his shoulder.  _Heck, he should've packed his dad's old tent._  They were relatively safe, but only for now. If the thunderstorm moved closer, the shelter of the tree would become the most unsafe of places.

"What are the chances that she'll offer us a warm cup of tea, or even better, some Firewhiskey?" suggested Rick, his teeth chattering in the cold.

Ron let out a gruff laugh. "Excuse me, Ma'am, we've come to interrogate you about a murder, but fancy serving us some tea and scones, will ya?"

"Well, not very likely then," chuckled the younger bloke.

"Not at all likely, Ricky." he contemplated aloud, "But more importantly, we need a solid excuse for entering the house," he added.

"Why, though? We've the documents to question her," Rick inquired as they cast drying and warming charms on themselves. The rain had lost a bit of its intensity, but if the grey masses were any indication, they were in for a rough night. Ron knew they needed to act fast.  _For now, he at least had an excuse- but it might not be enough._

"See that wall over there?" he asked, gesturing ahead. The younger bloke nodded. "I could bet you ten Sickles it's got some serious protective spells on it."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, we can't just walk in."

"But we've got the orders and-"

"All the more reason why she might not let us in at all. Just a Ministry sealed parchment doesn't guarantee that she'll be honest with us, does it, Ricky?"

"I guess it doesn't," agreed the younger Auror.

Ron stood staring hard at the house they could roughly make out at the far end. At least the Grangers didn't have a Fidelius Charm on it. That would've made matters slightly more tricky.

"She's got a clean record. We've actually got nothing against her- nothing more than a hunch," he told Rick, "but something tells me that a Ministry Order won't be enough to find what we need."

Ron stared hard at the house, pondering his options before he spoke again. "It's a moderately huge property. Do we know how many people live here?"

The house was old fashioned, and a little odd in his opinion, standing alone amidst the fields that surrounded it.  _Why would a young witch live in the middle of nowhere, especially when she was a Healer and might be called to work at odd times? Wouldn't London be more convenient?_ Perhaps she had a family, and sure, Apparating wouldn't take long, but something about the place made him curious.  _Something wasn't right here._

"No one underaged at least, that's for sure," provided Rick, and Ron turned to glance at the bloke, having momentarily forgotten what he was talking about.

"Someone who leaves right after a murder, and lives in the middle of nowhere in an unplottable house? I'd say they've got something to hide. Don't you reckon?"

The sky coloured again with another streak of lightning and he caught a glimpse of a thick grove a little distance away. Finally, a plan began to take shape.

"She's a Healer, isn't she?" he mused aloud with a lopsided grin.

* * *

 


	3. Day 2: Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-creator credits: @jenn582  
> Beta credits to one of my dear friends @idearlylovealaugh.

_Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Yorkshire_

"Bloody fuck, that hurts!"

He groaned and cursed himself internally with a few choice words from his colourful vocabulary as he limped his way to the nearest tree, resting his palm against the jagged, wet wood to support his weight.

"I think that was a Wolfsbane grove you just walked into, Ron," Rick commented gravely, pointing his wand-light at the leaves. Ron managed to get a glimpse.  _Bloody hell, he hadn't expected his plan to work so well, or so soon._

"The bloody rain ruined the flowers, couldn't see a thing, could I?" he spat, more out of pain than annoyance at the bloke. "But that's -that's brilliant actually," he responded, breathing deeply through his nose to avoid acknowledging the senselessness spreading through his muscles. Or the dread for that matter; Wolfsbane poisoning could be lethal.

Ron looked down, gripping his wand tightly and pointing it at his legs. Letting go of his hold on the tree trunk and resting his back against it, he grabbed and jerked up his trouser leg to get a better look. Ripped clothes were a part of their job, and he had lost count how many times he might have fixed the fabric by magic anyway. Surely the charms had faded away and the poisonous sap had leaked through them onto his skin as he trampled through the outgrowth, crushing the plant and it's highly poisonous roots.

The deep cuts on his shin from two nights ago seemed to have opened up as well and were now contaminated. Even the scratches on his left arm, which he had not bothered to heal at all, had all come in contact with the toxins.  _Brilliant._

His leg was slowly getting numb and he let go of the cloth to grab hold of Rick.

"Quick, let's go," he instructed, shaking his head to force the blurriness out of his vision.

"This might be one of your most insane ideas," Rick commented, as Ron wrapped his good arm around the bloke's shoulder. As Rick's arm went around his waist, Ron allowed himself to lean a bit more on the guy, which in turn caused him to stagger slightly. Ron cursed under his breath and wished he was Harry instead. Although to think of it, his best mate would have probably kicked his arse and dragged them to the house instead of such an elaborate (and perhaps slightly idiotic) plan.

Not only was his left leg feeling disconnected from his body, but the arrangement wasn't very comfortable either, as Rick stood a good six inches shorter than him. The odd angle of support hurt his back but he gathered his strength somehow and, together, they trudged ahead. Thankfully the rain had reduced to a fine drizzle, although the overcast sky glowed brightly, lit up by sudden bursts of lightning.

"As long as it works, we're good," he exhaled, before something in their movement strained his muscles and he winced painfully. "Fine, yeah, it's a bloody dumb idea! Just get us inside that freaking house, even if I pass out."

…..

"But Ma'am, I assure you we are Aurors!"

Ron was beginning to lose it. The stunningly pretty, dark-skinned young woman had been highly sceptical of the two blokes who had just wandered uninvited onto the property, breaking a fair amount of the protective enchantments, no less.

It wasn't a surprise that she had barged out shooting hexes at them the moment they had undone the protective spells and walked into the cobbled pathway. Rick's quick thinking and shield charm had saved them from further injuries. However, it had taken a fair bit of pleading on their part to make her stop attacking them. For the past five minutes, Rick had been trying to explain that they had no ulterior motives and only needed help.

"I demand authentication," she declared, hands perched on her hips and wand held firmly between her fingers.

"Show her, Rick," he instructed through gritted teeth. Rick looked at him in confusion. He lost the hold on his waist and Ron almost slipped, grabbing hold of the younger bloke and pulling him down with him. But Rick managed to hold him up at the last minute, as the two struggled to keep their footing and not land in an undignified heap at her feet.

The woman had made no attempts to help them; just watched on curiously, brows furrowed in mistrust. Ron was beginning to wonder if this interrogation was worth losing his leg.

"Are you sure?" Rick whispered.

"Do it!" he hissed. The bloke looked at him in total disbelief before he dug into his pocket. The Ministry-sealed scroll had barely made it out of Rick's pocket when Ron gasped.

"Wha-? Wait!" he hissed and glared hard at his partner.  _Was the bloke absolutely mental?!_

He used his left hand to dig inside his pocket and pulling out his Auror badge, shoved it right in front of the woman's face. She lit up her wand to get a better look and he knew she was reading the description of his Patronus. Relying totally on Rick to support his frame, Ron used his aching right hand to cast the spell.

"Expecto Patronum."

The wispy white terrier burst out and swirled around him once before prancing away towards the entrance of the house. He followed the glittery white canine as it ran up and bounced around the new figure who had just walked out of the house and was currently walking towards them. Ron barely noticed the mesmerising glow of his Patronus light up the features of the girl before he fainted.

…

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on an old couch. His way-too-long legs hung from one end of the couch, while his trouser leg lay ripped till his knees. His left arm dangled limp next to him, practically touching the carpeted floor. He could feel neither of his injured limbs, which he knew was the effect of Wolfsbane poisoning. In the light of the many candles that shone in the small living space, he noticed Rick standing with his arms folded at his chest, a look of deep worry etched on his features. The dusky woman they had met earlier was nowhere in sight but another person was standing a few paces away, her back towards him.

He flexed his hand experimentally and then made to lift himself up from the couch using his right arm to support his weight, but his body refused to cooperate.  _What the fuck?! He had risked this only because he knew she was a Healer. Merlin forbid, had his stupidity cost him his limbs?!_

"The effects of poisoning still persists in your system. I'd rest, if I were you, Auror Weasley."

She turned and as he looked into those eyes- brown and deep, suddenly nothing else mattered. For a minute, he found himself fervently wishing that he had met her someplace different, under better circumstances,  _definitely not while lying limp on her couch in the middle of the night, and certainly not because he had fainted at her doorstep._

_Bloody hell, he had actually fainted, and was now getting flooded with these stupid thoughts! He must have hurt his head_ , he thought gravely. These thoughts  _had_ to be the result of a concussion.

"Still?"

"That's a nasty plant, and it contaminated your blood directly through your wounds, so…" she shrugged as if the rest was obvious.

As she moved closer to take her place next to him on the ottoman, his eyes were inexplicably drawn to her features.  _Must be the side-effects of the poisoning,_ he decided.

She flicked her wand and white light cascaded down from it, wrapping his leg in a warm glow. She repeated the same on his forearm, and Ron felt a slight tingling sensation run through his muscles. He attempted movement again but was sorely disappointed.

"What d'ya think of it?" he asked, looking away from her pretty features.  _Focus, Ron, she could be an accomplice,_ he berated himself silently.

"I think I expected them to have trained our Aurors better." she replied in a clipped voice, "At least, they ought to recognise poisonous plants if they are meant to be the guardians of our society."

_Ouch._

"Excuse me, Ma'am! If you'd walked out of your cosy little house, you'd know it was bloody pouring out there! We couldn't see a thing!" he retorted sharply.

"And I assume you have good reasons to be loitering outside our property in this weather, Auror?" she asked again, and Ron's senses were suddenly on alert. He watched her closely, ignoring those lips that seemed to pull his eyes towards them.

"Trust me, we have a perfectly good reason to be out here, Miss Granger," he replied, watching her closely. There was a slight twitch in her features, which lasted only for a moment.

" _Healer_  Granger," she corrected him.

"Right, and I couldn't be gladder," he replied pointing his good arm towards his hurt limbs.

"You haven't answered me yet," she asked, picking herself up and turning around. Ron caught a whiff of her perfume and wished he could bang his head against the wall. _For fuck sake,_   _his head needed to be in the game, not bloody wooed by her charms! He was on a mission after all! What the bloody blazes was wrong with him?!_

"Actually-"

"Actually we were here following one of our suspects," he replied, cutting Rick mid-sentence.

She spun around at double speed, something akin to worry etched on her pretty features before she collected herself. He watched as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit it slightly with her teeth before releasing it slowly. Ron groaned and drew in a long shaky breath.  _Blimey, this poison was playing havoc with his brains._  He decided, once he was out of this place, he'd never again touch a Wolfsbane plant with a five-foot pole.

"And did you apprehend this person?"

He could see she was trying to act normal and in control.

"No," he replied, "we found traces of his presence beyond your property, but he escaped. Why d'ya think he'd be here?" he lied easily, upping the ante. He thought he saw a flicker of unease in her eyes before she straightened her shoulders and spoke.

"How would  _I_  know, Auror?" she responded curtly.

He shrugged. "Just asking. Your father was a renowned Potioneer. The guys we are tracking are most likely part of a drug racket." He could feel Rick shift uncomfortably next to him but chose to ignore him.

From what he remembered of Hermione Granger from school, she was brilliant, though not very vocal. Ravenclaws had very few classes with them after all, and he and Harry had more important things to worry about throughout most of their school life. He didn't know she had such a spark, or that she had turned out to be so stunning in her own unconventional way. Her hair was still like he remembered, a mass of unruly, brown curls. But it looked like she had learned to tame them better. For now, they swayed enticingly behind her in a long ponytail...

_The bloody poison was being a menace again_. It was frustration on a whole new level. Never before in his entire career had he faced a dilemma such as reminded himself that her hair or fragrance had nothing to do with this investigation _. And neither did those lips…_

"My father, as you rightly said, was a renowned Potioneer, Ron Weasley. I don't think he was ever found to be involved in trading illegal potions, was he?"

"No," he replied. Her cheeks were flushed, and Ron grudgingly realised he found her temper freakishly attractive.

"Then it might be more prudent for you to keep your accusations to yourself."

"My apologies," he admitted.  _True_ , it was a dick move to bring up her deceased father. To get the information they needed, he had to win her trust- not put her on her guard.

"I should have framed my question better," he continued politely, "but do you see any reason why a potion smuggler might wanna approach you?"

This time, she was visibly shocked and turned around abruptly. Picking up a vial from the table, she poured the liquid straight onto his open wounds, and he yelled aloud in pain.

"Sorry, that was bound to hurt."

Ron decided that if she was genuinely sorry, she'd at least have given him a warning before pouring that boiling lava on his poor foot! She was speaking again and he forced himself to concentrate. While he watched her through watery eyes, the potionburnt through his skin _._  Perhaps it was good after all; at least he could feeling  _something_. Also, any and all fanciful ideas his brain had been conjuring so far flew out of the window as he realised he was dealing with a pretty dangerous witch here.

"I'm not bound to answer since I don't see you flashing any Ministry orders at me, Auror. But I have nothing to hide either. So,  _no_ , I don't think I have  _anything_  that might interest a drug smuggler. My father's lab has been left unused for years now, you see. And I'm a Healer, not a Potioneer."

"Right." he breathed, as the pain from the potion reduced to bearable limits. "Perhaps just rotten chance, eh?"

"Perhaps," she agreed.

"So, what d'ya think of my limbs, Healer?" he inquired, changing the topic.

"I'll suggest you rest for tonight. I've got to see how it gets tomorrow before I confirm anything."

"Thanks for all your help, but we don't want to be any trouble," he added, curious to see how she reacted. "We'll find ourselves some shelter in the barn."

"You won't be able to move your limbs tonight for sure. And it's pouring again. I can't allow you to risk another infection. Alice has fixed up a room for you." She indicated to her left, where he could make out a dark corridor. Ron noticed that the pretty woman they had met earlier had made an appearance again.

Hermione Granger transfigured a chair into a wheelchair and Ron was moved into it with the help of the two other people in the room. He could sense Rick bubbling to question him but ignored the bloke.

"Thanks," he replied when they had moved into their designated quarters.

He needed this infection, or whatever it was, to persist in his system a little longer. They were nowhere close to finding out what he had come here for, but there was a lot about her that intrigued him. He had an inkling she was hiding something- whether it was related to their case or not, was hard to say. However, there was absolutely no doubt that she was extremely clever. She was sharp enough not to have shunned the Aurors away from her doorstep. It would have given them plenty of reasons to doubt her. On the contrary, she had acted as the perfect healer and host, even providing them with a room to stay the night.

"I'm sorry we can't offer you anything better," she said once he had been shifted to the bed. He looked around. The room was small and looked more like a study that hadn't been used in years. Two single beds took up most of the space, but at least it was clean.

"I know the house appears big, but it's quite old and-" she shrugged sadly, "- we hardly use most of the place. It's just Alice and me, anyway," she added in a strange voice.

"Please, it's perfect. Trust me, this is the best bed I've seen this week," he grinned and she smiled. Ron cursed his heart again.

"If all goes well, your leg shouldn't trouble you for another five or so hours. Although it'll be a while before it works fine again. Alice'll fetch you something to eat. I'll see you in the morning," she offered, and then she was gone.

* * *


	4. Day 2 continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shoutout to @idearlylovealaugh for being such a fantastic beta. This fic wouldn't be the same without her valuable input.

 

* * *

 

"I hope you know what you are doing, Hermione," said Alice, as she picked up the two familiar vials from the table. In the dimly lit room, it was hard to read the expression on the younger woman's face.

"I'm doing the best we can in this situation," Hermione replied, her voice steady. Uncertainty, if any, was masked well.

"But they are  _Aurors!_ " emphasised Alice, panic evident in her words.

"I know," Hermione responded patiently, "and that's why it's even more crucial to ensure we give them no reason to doubt us.".

"Right," agreed Alice, after a pause. In the soft glow emanating from the vials, Hermione could make out more questions bubbling right under the surface. She was glad when Alice refrained from voicing any further doubts. However, whether she actually agreed or not was hard to say.

 _I can do this,_ Hermione told herself firmly even as the image of a pair of sparkling blue eyes crossed her mind.

* * *

 

After they had a meal, which Ron had to admit was the best he had had in awhile, the men found themselves alone in their room. The beds, which were far too comfortable for a pair of Aurors on a mission, called to them enchantingly but they desperately fought the temptation of a good, solid nap. The house itself was eerily quiet, the silence broken by occasional bursts of thunder and the steady pattering of rain beyond the walls.

From his spot on the bed, Ron watched Rick take up his place on one of the rickety old chairs, stretching his legs on an equally old footstool. He signalled with his hand and understanding the silent code of communication that was a common part of their Auror life, Rick strode up, shut the door and cast a couple of protective wards around them.

"Muffliato," he whispered, before pulling the footstool close to the bed and lowering himself on it. "How's the leg?"

"Better," nodded Ron.

"What do you think of her?"

"Hard to say so far," he confessed, scratching his four-days-old stubble abstractedly. They still had the option  _and_  the necessary documents to question her directly. But her hospitality had given him more than enough reason to opt for a different route. For a person who was cautious enough to live in an unplottable and heavily warded house, she had been way too quick to allow accommodation to people she barely knew, Aurors or not. He ran his fingers through his matted hair, realising absentmindedly that he desperately needed a shower and a shave.

_How was he supposed to find out more about the most recent death without giving away his true intentions?_

Her face materialised in front of his eyes, and he groaned softly to himself at the emotions the image seemed to conjure. She had beautiful eyes, he mused before doing a double take. _Holy fuck, his brain was still messed up._  At least she wasn't around; that seemed to help matters slightly.

Forcing his unreasonable thoughts away, he concentrated on the task at hand. He  _had_  to figure out a way to solve this puzzle. If he questioned her upfront, she'd know in a minute that the whole injury bit was a ploy to enter the house. Her defences would be raised and any chance of a candid confession would be lost.  _No, he couldn't risk that._  They had already lost a big lead and were in no position to take risks. He was possibly being overly cautious here, but even a single ill-planned move could botch up the entire investigation (and also his chances of escaping this godforsaken place with functioning limbs). He glanced at Rick. Unsurprisingly enough, the bloke seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"Take a nap, mate," he called softly.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Rick responded, looking slightly ashamed and straightening his shoulders. "In fact, you should be the one getting some sleep. We need you back on form, Ron," he added.

Ron rubbed his left knee with his hand and tried to judge how far the leg was from healing completely. He grumbled to himself as even the smallest touch brought back the burn from the potion the Healer had administered.

Mumbling an incomprehensible reply, Ron proceeded to rest his back against the headboard. His left arm still felt stiff and cold, but at least it was better than his leg. It now felt more like a bad cramp and he was slightly relieved to be able to flex his fingers, although the act wasn't exactly pleasant or comfortable.

There were a lot of seemingly unconnected dots in this case, but Ron believed that they were just missing the crucial links that joined them all. And if his instincts were anything to go by, Hermione Granger had the key to at least one of them. But from what little he remembered about her from school, she was as guarded a person as this property of hers. He thought of those beautiful brown eyes again- the ones that seemed to have a magic of their own. She was the most mysterious woman he had ever met. And  _that,_ he told himself firmly, was the only reason why he couldn't stop thinking about her. He scratched his leg absentmindedly, groaning immediately as the skin where he had scratched blistered.

"Bloody hell!" he grumbled, turning at Rick and noticing that the bloke was already snoring, his head lying limp at an angle that was sure to result in a sprain by morning. Ron rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers, cursing softly to himself.

This was a bloody disaster.

As Aurors, they were never supposed to be off guard; constant vigilance was the first rule. However, he had to admit that keeping awake in a stinky hole was infinitely easier than keeping guard while lying on a cosy bed with a full stomach.

…

He woke up abruptly, not quite sure when he had dozed off, or for how long. A habit perfected through years of practice, all his senses were on alert immediately. And yet Ron was absolutely clueless about what could have disrupted his sleep.

The pattering of rain had dulled significantly, but other than that, the house was eerily silent. Pushing himself off the bed, he limped his way towards the dark drapes beyond the second bed. A tiny storm of dust hit him as he pushed them apart to reveal a lone window that was bolted shut. A shove or two on the old latch opened the window and a gust of cold air and rain droplets swept into the room, instantly freezing his skin.

"What-?" croaked Rick in the background. Ron pulled the pane shut and turned around. Flicking his wand to light up a sole candle on the bedside table, he gestured wordlessly at the empty bed.

"Nothing. Take the bed, Rick," he said, and the groggy boy consented without an argument. Rick lifted himself from the chair, wobbled his way to the bed and crashed facedown, snoring again.

Ron paused for a minute.  _Perhaps it was just a dream?_  Deciding to make a quick check, he limped his way to the door. He undid the two spells Rick had cast earlier with practised ease and turned the knob- only the door didn't relent. Suddenly he was wide awake, more alert than he was even minutes ago with the cold, wet air splashing on his face.

It didn't take him more than a couple of tries to undo the spell, but it wasn't the simplicity of the spell that intrigued him- it was the presence of it.

With his Auror reflexes all at the ready, he muffled the sound of his shoes and used the support of the wall to walk to the living room. Ron wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to find, but a pair of cool green eyes was surely not it.

"Lumos," he whispered, and as his wand tip lit up he almost laughed aloud.

"Aren't you the ugliest cat I've ever seen!" he chuckled and hobbled his way to the couch to rest against it wasn't the best idea to walk till he healed completely, but now that he was already up and awake, it'd be stupid not to use the opportunity and take a quick look around.

The cat seemed to have taken serious offence at his words and hissed, his bushy tail flicking behind him.

"You won't mind if I take a tour, would ya?" he joked and glanced around. A passage on the opposite side to the one which brought him to the living room seemed to lead to the main door.

The living space was small- slightly bigger than the one at his parents perhaps, but not by much. In the soft glow of his wand, he could figure out only a little more than what he had seen earlier. A staircase stood in the middle of the room, the space under it used as a large bookshelf. Old photo frames adorned the wall, but almost all of them were landscapes. Even the mantel had a couple of candle stands and an assortment of vases and other random objects, but not a single photograph of the inhabitants of the house.

Curious, he cast the light on the other walls and the cat hissed its displeasure. There was a kitchen to his left but apart from that, there were no other rooms on the ground floor. There seemed to be just one way. Ron glanced at the staircase weighing his options...

_What were the chances that he could climb up and take a look around discreetly? Plenty if he was in full form, but right now, perhaps not the best._

He glanced at his watch. It had been close to four hours since they had arrived, and although his leg was still not good as new, now it was definitely better- more like a severe cramp, just like his hand had been. He flexed the fingers on his left hand, this time happy to note that the stiffening had reduced a fair amount.

It might not be the best action considering the hospitality Hermione Granger had extended towards them- but then, it was a mission after all. He really couldn't let go of this golden opportunity, could he?

Grabbing his wand tightly, he limped ahead. He placed his right leg on the first step using the rails to support himself and carefully dragged the cramped foot up. Happy with the progress, he took another step. However, right at that moment, the menace of a cat let out a loud growl and leaped over the furniture straight towards the steps. It ran past Ron, climbed ahead of him and paused. Glaring at him, it began flicking its tail, hissing incessantly.

Ron cursed under his breath.  _Who knew Hermione Granger's cat would be channelling Mrs Norris?_

"Move over," he barked, but the cat was adamant and judging by its body language, more than a little pissed at the intruder. Hoping that his approach would scare the feline away (after all, it would be a shame if a 6' 3" Auror was outdone by a ruddy flat-faced cat), he took another step.

This time, the ginger devil leaped right at his injured leg- sharp nails piercing his skin.

"Fuck! Get off! Get off!" he spat under his breath and flung his injured leg to drop the meddlesome animal off, balancing himself precariously on his good leg and holding onto the railing tight. But the ruddy cat grabbed onto his leg with both paws, claws digging into his shin. Ron wobbled on the step, as he tried hard to rid himself of the unwanted weight, while at the same time avoid collapsing on the stairs with a loud crash.

"Crookshanks!"

Her voice stilled Ron, and the beast clinging onto his leg stopped attacking to glance up at his mistress.

"Get here, now," she called, and it let go of Ron and bounced up at her, purring and rubbing itself against her legs. Suddenly all the candles in the room were lit, showering the room with light.

" _What do you think you are doing?"_

Ron did not miss the controlled rage in her words. Adjusting his expression the best he could, he looked up at the woman standing at the head of the stairs.

"Was trying to locate the washroom, but your cat seems to hate me." He gave her what he hoped was his most innocent smile. But from her blazing eyes and tightly pressed lips it wasn't hard to infer that his charms weren't working.

"Downstairs, just opposite to your room," she replied, her voice cold. He winced.

"Erm, oh, I'm sorry. It was way too dark and- "

"Too dark to locate the door right in front of your nose but not so much to snoop around the house?"

"Hey, I wasn't snooping around!" he retorted far too quickly, hoping that she wouldn't be able to make out his reddening ears in the candlelight.  _Fuck it, his lying skills were better than this._

Her eyes moved to his leg and he realised that he had not noticed that his leg was bleeding again.  _Wait, weren't the scratches supposed to hurt? Why couldn't he feel it?_

"Care to look at it?" he pleaded.

"Why should I?" she spat, clearly offended. "I asked you to rest, and you were-"

"I wasn't snooping, I swear. But I thought I heard something, perhaps a crash, and y'know, I'm an Auror and…"

It was hard to read her expression, but she descended the staircase anyway.

"Go back to your room, I'll be there in a bit," she instructed as she busied herself at one of the shelves.

Ron did as asked. Slowly, he limped back to the room and lay on the bed. She walked in barely seconds later, face grim and impassive. Dropping the wooden box she was carrying on the bed next to him, she lit up a few more candles.

It was only then that he noticed she didn't appear to have slept at all. Her hair wasn't tousled, as would be expected at this hour, but it wasn't tied up as it was earlier. It fell to her waist in tight ringlets, a little bushy perhaps but utterly natural and insanely attractive. She wore a deep blue(or was it green?) jumper and a pair of plaid pyjamas.

Hermione grabbed hold of the candle closest to her and bent over his leg, scrutinizing it and occasionally poking it with her wand. Ron couldn't help notice how her hair fell over her face, obscuring his view before she hastily tucked it behind her ear.

"It's not good manners to stare at your Healer while's she's trying to save your leg."

He looked away quickly, his ears burning crimson. He rubbed the back of his neck abstractedly.

"Umm… sorry to wake you up," he furnished as a lame excuse.

She proceeded to conjure a bowl, filled it with water and warmed it up with a spell.

"You couldn't possibly expect me to be sleeping peacefully after having two intruders suddenly barge their way into our house in the middle of the night, would you?" she replied. Ron stared at her in disbelief.

"Intruders?!" he asked, offended. "Well, yes, I agree, it wasn't the best way to enter your property, but if I remember correctly, you were the one to offer us accommodation."

Hermione pulled out a wad of cotton, dipped it into the water and carefully cleaned the wounds caused by her pet before she replied.

"When I offered you to stay, I trusted you to not to snoop around my house in the middle of the night."

"Again, I wasn't snooping. Told ya, I heard somethin'."

"And despite that, you haven't bothered to investigate it since I came along?" she questioned, and Ron had to do all in his power to not admire those eyes that were watching him with utmost mistrust. He looked away abruptly.  _Merlin, he hated this poisoning!_

"How could I? Your beast of a cat mauled me!" he retorted defensively, perhaps a little more rudely than planned. A streak of deep annoyance flashed in her eyes.

"Crookshanks is no beast," she hissed and jabbed a little too furiously on the wound with her wand. For the first time since his poisoning, Ron was glad his leg had lost all sensation.

"And he was doing his duty," she added after she poured some Dittany on the claw marks.

"Yeah, he's one brave, flat-faced knight." Ron wasn't even sure why he said it aloud, or said it at all for that matter, when he knew in his heart he was at wrong here. But his snide remark earned him another jab on his shin.

She huffed and closed the box more loudly than necessary before standing up straight. Suddenly he realised he didn't exactly want her to leave.  _Fuck, his head was all messed up. Why was his head all messed up?_

His tone softened and he was not even sure why. His brain was all wonky _._ "Tell me it's healing,  _please_?"

"I can't guarantee a quick recovery if my patient decides to deliberately disobey my instructions."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, "Alright, I'll stay here as long as you command. But tell me it'll be fine."

"You'd have been fine by morning if you'd done as told. But you went about walking and getting into a fight with my cat. Crookshanks is part Kneazle. Their claws are harmless on a normal day, but add Wolfsbane poisoning to it and it has different reactions for different people."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, now we have to wait five more hours to see how it affects you," she replied, irritated.

_Merlin's saggy balls, Ron could have kicked himself._

With a flick of her wand, Hermione vanished the bowl and picked up her box of potions from the bed. She was almost at the door when he called her again.

"Why did you charm this door?"

She paused in the act of turning the doorknob and replied without turning around.

"We had two unannounced guests in our house tonight. You'd assume we'd want to be prepared if any of them got some dishonourable ideas. We're allowed to keep ourselves safe, aren't we, Auror?"

Ron flipped to the other side and sat up by placing both his feet on the floor. His ears were burning, but he ignored them.

"You shouldn't have allowed us accommodation at all if you suspected us," he told her.

"I did what I was supposed to as a Healer. We didn't necessarily suspect you; we were just being cautious," she replied.

He had to admit, his nighttime adventure looked very different when he saw it from her perspective. "I assure you, I wasn't planning to intrude upon your privacy."

She kept facing the door and he wished she'd turn around. _Why was it suddenly so important to him that she believed his words?_

"I hope so. I really thought I could trust you when I allowed you to stay, Ron," she added in a very soft voice, and Ron wasn't sure why his heart was beating rather fast. He contemplated asking her if it was a side-effect of the poisoning but decided against it.

"I promise, we have no intention to harm you in any way, Hermione," he repeated earnestly.

"I'll check on you in a couple of hours," she said before she left the room, leaving Ron to ponder in silence if she believed him at all.

…...

An hour later, Ron was still wide awake, lost in thoughts. Once in awhile, he'd poke his shin hard and then grumble under his breath at the lack of any sensation.

Somewhere towards the end of the second hour his wand began to buzz in a familiar fashion, and he dug deep into his pocket to pull out a blank piece of parchment.

"Hagrid's cooking," he muttered very softly, almost visualizing his best mate's eye roll at the codeword he had thought of. An 'I' materialised on the parchment and he drew a circle around it. An inverted triangle appeared encompassing the two symbols, and an inverted Deathly Hallows symbol was formed. He tapped twice on the paper with his wand and soon Harry's familiar scrawly handwriting popped up.

" _How's it going?"_

Bracing himself for a solid rebuke he tapped his wand, the words forming in his head and appearing on the two-way parchment.

" _Wolfsbane poisoning?! Are you fucking out of your mind, Ron?"_

Ron grinned and explained his doubts and for a while, nothing appeared.

"What's the situation at your end?" he asked and Harry's reply was prompt. They were tracking all possible suspects and locations. So far, there was nothing to report.

He tapped his fingers on his thighs absentmindedly, admonishing himself for the stupid stunt.  _Who was he kidding?_ Hermione Granger was just one part of the whole puzzle (if she was involved at all) he had to get out of this barmy old house. Time was running out.

"Tell me you talked K into postponing it?" he asked, and could almost see Harry's frustration through the familiar scribbles. Harry's writing tended to get more untidy depending on how tense he was.

" _No. Rescheduling so many high-profile delegates' itineraries at such short notice won't be possible."_

"Fools!" he scowled aloud.  _Had those dumb buggers no clue that the entire force was working their arses off trying to keep them alive?_

" _Find what you have to and get back mate."_

Ron ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before tapping the parchment once more.

"Yeah, I'm trying," he wrote.

There was a muffled sound in the corridor and Ron folded up the parchment, gave it one final tap, and forced it back inside the concealed pocket.

"Rick!" he called urgently and the bloke woke up, slightly groggy. "I'm gonna keep her busy. Go around the property and see if you find anything suspicious," he instructed urgently. Rick shook his head as if shaking sleep away and was on his feet just as quickly.

"Right," he nodded.

There was a subtle knock, and Rick opened the door as Hermione walked in.

"You won't mind if he checks the perimeter of the property, will you?" Ron asked, and for one fleeting moment, there was something more than worry in her eyes.

"Why does he need to check? Our wards are all up and we haven't detected anything," she inquired looking between the two Aurors.

"The property is warded but the grounds beyond your walls aren't," he provided and gestured at Rick who left the room promptly.

She waited till the bloke was gone before turning around at him properly.

"What are you hiding?" she inquired. Ron watched her curiously for a while before he responded.

"Are you sure  _you_  aren't hiding something we ought to know?" She didn't flinch but there was a stiffness in her words when she replied.

"I'm sure there is nothing in my life you need to know, Auror."

Ron wanted to say that he didn't believe her, that he was sure there was much more he wanted to know (for the sake of his investigation, of course!). But he forced his addled brain to stick to the case.

"Let's check your wounds," she declared and ran her wand over his leg. White light poured out of it and after a moment turned purple. He watched her curiously as her brows furrowed.

"What-?"

"Let's get you something to eat," she declared abruptly, and Accio-ed the wheelchair from the corner.

"I'm going to transfer you to the chair," she stated and he stopped her.

"Excuse me? What do you mean by 'transfer' me? I can do that myself, thank you!" he snapped.  _He had only injured his leg, for Merlin's sake!_

"You  _can_ , but you  _may not_!" she admonished, and before he could object or pick himself up, he was magicked up and seated in the wheelchair. He fumed in annoyance while she dropped the box of her potions on his lap and wheeled him out of the room.

Once at the kitchen, she guided his chair to the table. Putting some water to boil, Hermione pulled out a couple of mugs while Ron sat, arms folded at his chest and brows furrowed. He decided that she was exceptionally annoying and he didn't like her one bit. _Why did she have to be so bossy?!_

Hermione brought the steaming hot mugs and a plate of scones along with a large bar of chocolate to the table and pulled a seat for herself.

"Are you going to tell me more about the condition of my leg or not?" he asked annoyed, as she passed him a cup. He eyed the chocolate but chose to ignore it for the moment.

"You need more sugar in your system. Eat up," she replied cryptically, placing the plates in front of him.

"You are such an annoying Healer!"

Fire blazed in her eyes and despite his indignation from before, he couldn't help but notice how adorable she looked when miffed. Somehow the realisation angered him all the more. He needed to get rid of the poison in his system, his leg needed to heal and all these stupid feelings he was having needed to cease. _Why the hell wasn't she helping?_

"I'm trying to help you here," she said, her voice cold.

"No, you aren't," he snapped back. "I need to get back!"

As both glared at the other, Ron cursed himself mentally (for the hundredth time since arriving there, perhaps, he was beginning to lose count). He was the first to look away. He took a sip, relishing the brew, and steadied his breathing before making eye contact again.

"Look, I'm sorry," he provided. "It's a very important case, and our only lead was murdered yesterday. And now I'm stuck with this-", he indicated his leg. "Guess I'm a little messed up right now."

She chose not to comment but Ron continued anyway, watching her closely for a reaction. "The bloke was brewing something dangerous. We raided his hideout hoping to catch him red-handed, but the devil escaped. He was admitted to the hospital for poisoning. Bloody hogwash! He was injured when the cauldron exploded, not poisoned. And to add to it, he was killed before we could nab him."

He noticed with satisfaction that Hermione Granger had gone pale.  _Good going, buddy,_  he cheered silently.

"What was his name?" she asked, trying hard to keep up the show of composure but, as far as he was concerned, not doing a very good job of it.

"Albert Flint," he replied.

She studied him for a brief moment, and when he was absolutely certain that she'd deny any knowledge in the matter, she took him completely by surprise.

"He was  _my_  patient. And if I am not wrong, you are actually here to interrogate me about his death.  _Aren't you, Auror Weasley?_ "

* * *

 


	5. Day 2: One Hell of a Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for such a late update. A bout of Dengue forced a hospital stay and disrupted my life. Everything is slowly falling back in place now, and I hope future updates won't take so long. 
> 
> As always co-creator credits go to @Jenn. A big thanks to my fabulous beta @idearlylovealaugh for being so prolific, wrapping this up on a busy weekday!

 

"What was his name?" she asked, trying hard to keep up the show of composure but, as far as he was concerned, not doing a very good job of it.

"Albert Flint," he replied.

She studied him for a brief moment, and when he was absolutely certain that she'd deny any knowledge in the matter, she took him completely by surprise.

"He was  _my_  patient. And if I am not wrong, you are actually here to interrogate me about his death.  _Aren't you, Auror Weasley?_ "

Ron had to literally bite the inside of his cheeks to stop from bursting out laughing. This would quite possibly be the strangest questioning ever. _Merlin, wasn't she good?_

"If you have anything that can help us with the case, Healer, trust me, I'm all ears," he said, but only after taking a leisurely sip from his cup.

She was still glowering at him. He waited for her sharp retort that he knew was coming his way.

"The tea is brilliant, by the way." He gave her a tiny grin and noticed her eyes squint further. Perhaps she was still trying to figure out what he was playing at.

"What are you doing here, Auror?" she asked. Ron took his time to respond. He picked up a scone, bit into it and licked his lips before he replied.

"I told you, didn't I? We were following a guy who led us here and then I fucked up royally," he indicated his leg again.

"Didn't you just say that Flint was your only lead?"

He dusted his hands and sipped from his cup again.  _How enjoyable was it to raise her hackles?_  He was sure he could see magic crackling around her wild curls.

"Yeah, he was."

"Then what about the so-called suspect you found loitering around my property? A figment of your imagination perhaps?"

He laughed out loud.  _Sweet Merlin, she was fantastic._  "Well, he, as you correctly said, was a 'suspect'. We think he is involved, but we aren't exactly sure. Flint, on the other hand, was one solid lead who escaped," he grumbled.

" _Albert died!"_ she snapped, andRon put back the cup that was almost at his lips.

"You knew him." It was obvious and somehow the realisation of it wiped the smile off his face.

"Of course I did!" she cried, angry and visibly upset. She looked away, perhaps to compose herself, and Ron's heart skipped beats.  _Bloody hell, this wasn't looking good._

"You must have got it wrong. He can't be the man you think he is," she declared eventually.

Ron noticed the way her fingers were wrapped around her mug as if drawing in warmth and strength from the hot brew. He ignored the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach to concentrate on his questioning. "We are sure we got the right guy," he declared and held her gaze when she glared at him.

"I've known him for years, Auror Weasley.  _Years._  Albert would never…" she paused and bit her lip and sighed. "He has a lovely wife and a young daughter. Why would he get involved in this mess?"

"I don't know," he responded softly, honestly. "Money? Don't think he was making enough from that potion shop, was he?"

"He was a fantastic potioneer!" she snapped again. "He trained under my father."

"Then why was he working in that shop? He could have done better working for the Ministry."

She laughed bitterly. "You don't know your so-called 'lead' at all, do you? Albert wasn't someone to run after money. All he knew was his work and independence. The Ministry wouldn't give him that. The shop provided enough to sustain his family and gave him the option to work on his research potions, on his own terms."

"I know he patented a few of those, but nothing to fetch a lot. And a man's got to pay his bills." he countered. "What if he needed more money to fund his 'research'. He didn't exactly have sponsors, did he?"

Hermione opened her mouth as if to spit out a great counter-argument, but stopped herself.

"It can't be…" she muttered, almost to herself.

Ron took another sip. His brain was bursting with a lot of questions, and at the same time, there were a hundred things that weren't adding up.

"How did he die?" he asked finally, wondering if all the pains he had taken would bear some fruit. They needed more answers.

Hermione grabbed her cup harder and bit her lower lip, all the while staring hard at the table. "I really thought the poison was washed away from his body. But it wasn't...He-he relapsed. He was supposed to go home that evening…"

_Fuck! There had to be more!_ "And?" he persisted. "Are you sure he hadn't been poisoned again?"

"How could he be? He was safe in hospital! There were no other symptoms other than those he had in the first place! It  _had_  to be from the same poison!"

"What was this poison?"

"It was one of his own potions, something he was working on for a while now," she whispered, and Ron had a strange inkling that she was holding back much more than she was sharing with him.

"And what was this potion supposed to do?"

She sighed. "Cure people who had suffered mental torture. It would be his best discovery yet. Help so many..."

Ron remained silent, pondering.

"Doesn't add up, Hermione. If he was working for such a noble cause, why would he flee when we found him? And if he was such a great potioneer, why would he test an unknown potion on himself?" He was reminded of the twins back in his fifth year.  _Didn't they do the same?_

"I don't know, Ron, but he isn't the first one to do so…"

"You are a fantastic Healer, Hermione," he stated, genuinely. "How did you..." he sighed.  _Fuck._ He couldn't tell her that her erroneous judgement had turned more pricey than she could have ever imagined. This was the reason why, as an Auror, he had to keep himself emotionally detached from his job. _How had he screwed it up so much?_

"Do you really think he was poisoned? We clearly saw his cauldron explode, splattering him with the contents before he disapparated."

She looked at him as if thoroughly conflicted. " _Why would he lie to me? He said he tested the potion on himself!"_

Ron sighed soundly and ran his fingers through his hair. "How well do you know his family?" he asked.

"I told you, we've known them for years. Martha and Alice…" she bit her quivering lip and looked away but not before Ron noticed her watery eyes. He fisted his fingers, telling himself that this was a bloody case he was working on and nothing more. She was just a witness. Plus, it was still not very clear how involved she was in the whole game.  _For Merlin's sake, he didn't even know if she was lying or not!_  She sniffed and his resolve broke.

He placed his hand gently over hers, noticing how small they were and how warm. She turned at him in surprise, those tear-laden pools meeting his, and Ron cursed himself silently. He had seen plenty of witnesses break down, but nothing had ever made him as weak as this. And to add to his problems, he found he really wanted to believe her.

"I'm sorry… I didn't know he was your… friend…"

She removed her hand from underneath his, and he dropped his hand to his lap quickly, embarrassed.  _Bloody hell, what was he even thinking?!_

"Do you have any more questions, Auror?" she asked stiffly, and Ron berated himself again for his momentary weakness.

"So you really have no clue about his involvement in the potion smuggling?" he asked. "Anything you can tell us about him will be very helpful."

"Stop framing an honest man!" she screamed and he lost it at that.

"I'm not  _framing_  anyone without reason!" he snapped. "And, Healer, you have no fucking clue how messed up this whole thing is!"

He pushed his chair roughly and stood on his wobbly leg. She got up quickly but he stopped her with a wave of his hand, glaring hard.

"You'll hurt yourself!" she snapped. Ron ignored her and pulled out his wand to conjure himself a pair of crutches.

Ron met Rick a few steps down. It was evident from the look on the bloke's face that he had heard a fair bit and was sceptical as hell about the whole of it. Rick shook his head in frustration and helped Ron as they made their way towards the room they had been allotted.

Once inside, Ron personally locked it with a few special spells before he collapsed on the bed. Rick was still standing, looking utterly conflicted.

"What was all that about? I thought you hurt yourself purposely to get a candid confession? Why would you blow our cover?"

Ron rubbed the aching muscles on his shoulder and tried flexing his toes on the injured foot, groaning at the lack of any sensation. "Spoke to Harry. The other end is unnaturally quiet. It's like chess, buddy. We gotta make a move to see how they react."

Rick collapsed on the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm still confused," he declared.

"She knew him," he explained, "Didn't even bother hiding that she knew him and his family very well. A lot of things don't add up, Rick. It's obvious why he chose to get admitted under her care. Either she is lying to cover up for him or he was using her trust in his favour. She insists that he relapsed. Not like we'll get anything more here. I hope we find something more substantial from the autopsy. Some clue that'll tell us if she is lying about his cause of death."

"Ron, how likely is it that she was the one who poisoned him?"

_Fuck, fuck, fuck,_   _he hadn't thought of that_ \- perhaps because he didn't want to think of it. He knew he'd hate it if that turned out to be true.

"We've gotta get out of here," he declared as he rubbed his knee. "If she is involved, she'll try getting in touch with her buddies now that they know we came here. We need to get out of the scene but keep watch. Did'ya find anythin'?"

Rick shook his head. "The whole place, except this side of the house, is boarded up. Windows, doors -everything. But, yeah, right at the back there is a window which is open, maybe two or three floors up. Just noticed it as the rest are all closed."

"Could be for the owl," he mused aloud.

"Yeah, possible," shrugged Rick. "So what do we do now? Are you fit enough to Apparate?"

Ron checked his watch. "Another hour and she'll tell me."

…

"Four days?!" he gasped, sitting up abruptly as Rick groaned in the background. "You are a fucking Healer! Don't you know some spells to heal me faster?"

Hermione shot him a dirty look before turning away. "You might be an Auror, Weasley, but we are in  _my_  house, so keep the swearing to yourself," she replied in a clipped voice. "And no, there is no quick way to fix the poison. Last I checked, I didn't ask you to step on those poisoned branches or get into a fight with my cat, so stop yelling at me."

He gaped at her, but she ignored him completely.

"I am leaving," he declared finally, pushing himself off the bed and Accio-ing his crutches towards him. Rick strode up to him promptly and Ron balanced himself on the bloke, who staggered a little.

"Be my guest" she replied, now shoving the case of potions in her box, "but if I am  _not_  responsible if you splinch yourself."

Ron was extremely pissed off. "Will you kindly guide us to the floo, Madame?" he inquired in a falsely sweet voice.

"We don't have one," she responded composedly, ignoring the jibe.

"BUGGER!" he fumed angrily and swayed on the spot. Rick looked particularly uncomfortable supporting Ron's much larger frame, but Ron was way too furious to care.

"Brooms?" he asked exasperatedly.

"None. And even if we had those, you couldn't possibly fly to London with that infected leg."

"Side-along Apparition, Healer?" Rick inquired on his behalf and her tone softened as she looked at the younger man.

"No, Auror. The principal of Apparition remains the same anyway. He still has no sensation from knee down. The chances of splinching are excessively high."

"So I am stuck here with your highness for company  _for four straight days?!_ " groaned Ron and she seemed to flare up at his words.

"Trust me, Auror Weasley, I don't fancy having you here myself," she snapped back.

"Maybe I could go back and get you a Portkey?" suggested Rick desperately.

Hermione laughed aloud. "How does this bunch even become Aurors? Am I speaking Greek or Latin? The only way Auror Weasley can leave without hurting his limb more than he already has is by muggle transport."

"Hah!" chuckled Ron. "The Knight Bus! You won't get the pleasure of my company you so desire after all." His smile faltered as Hermione shook her head and snorted.

"Do as you please. I'll see you at the hospital then? Or maybe not, since you'll have to be shifted to the intensive care after that ride."

"ARGH!" he screamed. "I can't believe my rotten luck!"

"Trust me, my luck seems to be worse," she spat, and walked out of the door.


	6. Stuck Indoor: Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to idearlylovealaugh for her amazing beta work. She makes this so much better.  
> Co-creator credits to Jenn.

 

 

 

Ron was sitting on his bed brooding, even hours after Rick had left. He looked around at the old room and grumbled under his breath. Harry would kick his arse and for good reason. His plan had backfired on him royally.  _What if they found the bastards while he was stuck in here?_ He'd be a joke in the department, injured and out of action for nothing but a stupid, useless questioning.

"Bloody hell!" he grumbled, slapping himself on the forehead with his palm and gagging at the stink from his jacket. Merlin, it was a surprise people weren't fainting around him!

Deciding that he had nothing better to do anyway, he grabbed his rucksack and pulled out a fresh set of clothes and his razor. He pushed himself off the bed, scorning at his leg, and limped his way to the bathroom.

….

"You let the Auror stay."

Hermione felt the blush creeping up her cheeks. Pretending to be very focused on the mundane task of beating the eggs, she made a noncommittal sound and proceeded to check the sausages.

"He just isn't fit enough to leave," she replied, realising Alice's eyes on her.

"Is it just that?"

"What else can it be?" she asked, hoping that Alice would let it rest.

"Are you telling me that his dashing good looks haven't played any part in your decision?" her companion smirked.

Feeling the blush darken, Hermione was quick to move away on the pretext of grabbing a pan.

"Dashing good looks? You need glasses, Alice. Also, he is very unkempt for my taste."

Alice laughed aloud and Hermione joined in before they both stopped suddenly, a curtain of melancholy descending on them as their eyes met, wiping off the cheer. "If he wasn't an Auror, I'd have said go for it, but-"

"-but it's too risky, right?" she chuckled bitterly. "Don't worry, Alice, I know I don't have that kind of liberty to follow the silly fantasies of the heart. It's better not to dream at all than to have them dashed."

Hermione noticed Alice's teary eyes before the distressed woman sighed, and wiped them off hastily.

"We'll find a way," Alice promised.

"Yes," she replied unsurely. They both knew how practically impossible the mission it was after Albert's death, but Alice had always been the more hopeful of the two.

"And once we do, you'll be able to live your life. You so deserve it, sis."

….

Washing off the days-old grime and sweat cheered Ron marginally. Post shave, he was at least looking more like a normal bloke than a thinner version of Hagrid. He decided to especially thank Kreacher once he was back home for the bar of soap placed inside his clothes.

Finally, dumping the tiny hand towel he had been using to dry himself, he grabbed the last item from his fresh set of clothes. It was the deep navy jumper Angie had gifted him on his last birthday. He lacked enough warm clothes but hoped his work robes would suffice for the next few days. After managing to Scourgify most of the grime off his old clothes, he bundled them up into a tight ball.

Back in his room, he pushed the dirty ball deep inside his sack and pocketed the communication parchment and his wand before he limped out again. He couldn't sit indoors all day long, he'd die of boredom- so he began the treacherous journey towards the porch, hoping to catch some fresh air.

…

Hermione hated to admit it, but finding her father's study empty had shaken her up a bit. She desperately wanted to believe that all of it was only fear of Ron having wandered off exploring the house. However, the truth was different.

_He couldn't have left, he can't Apparate yet,_ she declared to herself. A tiny part of her heart was quick to point out that Ron Weasley wasn't one to shy away from danger, nor was he very likely to religiously obey orders.

She quicked her steps and ran out of the door. Needless to say, finding the tall man standing outside on the porch and looking out at the garden made her feel suddenly elated. Of course, she wasn't ready to accept it. She couldn't see his face as he stood facing away, but her treacherous eyes did take note of the broad shoulders and amazingly toned back. The well-fit pair of jeans emphasised his long legs as he stood leaning against a pillar. Embarrassed, she looked away.

_What was wrong with her?! He was her patient!_  And it was not like she had never seen a male body before, she was a Healer after all. She was no stranger to male anatomy.  _Oh, Merlin!_ She absolutely could not think about male anatomy with Ron standing merely a few feet away from her! _What was she doing there anyway?! Oh, right! Looking for him..._

"What do you think you are doing?" she asked him instead, using her strict Healer voice. He did not need to know how he was affecting her.  _That_  would be mortifying.

He turned at her voice and her stupid heart skipped a beat.  _Wow, he looked different..._

"Erm, standing I guess? Isn't that what it's called?" he smirked.

"I can see that! Why, though?" she asked, arms perched on her hips. She kept reminding herself that she was his Healer and he was only a patient and a very infuriating one at that.

"Because I can, perhaps?" he replied cheekily.

"Just because you  _can_  doesn't mean you  _should_!" she admonished. The breath almost caught in her chest as he rested his back against the pillar, tilted his face slightly and smiled at her.

"Chill, Healer," he sighed with a wave of his hand. "I'm stuck in here for days. At least let me enjoy the view."

She huffed indignantly but couldn't argue. She told herself firmly that it had nothing,  _absolutely nothing, t_ o do with how handsome he looked, standing there on the familiar old porch, making it look so very different by his mere presence. She moved closer on the pretext of looking at his leg.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, and noticed a small frown materialise.

"The arm's way better if a little stiff, but the leg still lacks sensation," he grumbled. Turning around, he placed his hands on the railing and looked at the open ground before speaking again. "You're sure I won't lose it all together?"

She looked at him in surprise. Not many people she had met could talk about losing a limb so casually. "Oh no, you won't! It's just the effect of the medication. While the poison is still in your system, the spells and potion will keep the injured part numb to avoid the poisoning from spreading to your nervous system."

He cheered visibly. "Good, I'd hate to lose it for such a dumb-arse reason," he replied, gracing her with one of his lopsided grins. She wanted to run away.

"I have to admit, most men would be petrified at the prospect of losing a limb, Auror," she said in her most professional voice.

"You think I'm not worried?" he laughed. "Scars and curses are part and parcel of my profession, Healer," he shrugged, "I don't fancy it, but we can't rule out the possibilities."

"Why are you in this profession?" she asked, genuinely curious this time.

"The same reason why you went on to become a Healer, I guess?" he replied with a smile although it wasn't as light-hearted as before. He looked away before he spoke further but she continued to watch his well-defined profile. "We were all trying to do our bit, weren't we?"

"Yes," she replied, looking away as the haunting visions of the war and those dark years materialised before her eyes. Suddenly it didn't matter that he was an Auror investigating and possibly even suspecting her involvement in the death of a dear friend. It didn't matter that she should never have allowed him inside her house, let alone make him stay there for days. Standing in the middle of nowhere, brought together by a strange twist of fate, a slice of shared past seemed to bring them closer. They had lived the same horrors, fought the same war. Their paths might have differed but the aim had been the same- saving others.

_Maybe he will understand._

She gasped quietly at the strength of her longing and glanced discreetly at the tall man standing a few feet away. Either she was imagining it or Ron radiated some sort of warmth. His mere presence made her feel safe like she hadn't felt in years. She knew it was utterly foolish to even hope. And it was not just because everything about her life had been decided years ago. No one could ever possibly want her, certainly not with all the baggage she had. These moments, which she was building her dreams on, were nothing but a mirage. He was at her home only because he had no choice. Had it not been for his injury, he'd have left long ago.

"Beautiful," he whispered, and she looked up sharply as her cheeks coloured again. There he was, looking ahead at the cloud-veiled mountains across the meadow. He was talking about the view,  _naturally_.

_Stupid! Stupid, Hermione!,_  she admonished herself fervently.  _I am an utter idiot! How did I ever manage to get sorted into Ravenclaw?_  she berated herself internally, mortified by her misjudgement. "We were wondering if you'd like to have a spot of breakfast?" she blurted hurriedly, suddenly eager to escape. Hopefully he wouldn't notice her, or even if he did, he'd mistake the blush to be caused by the chill.

"How do you both live here all by yourselves?" he inquired all of a sudden. Hermione, who had already turned away, halted midstep and was forced to face him again.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking the time to formulate an answer that could satisfy an Auror of his calibre.

"Don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "it's undoubtedly beautiful but, I mean, isn't it too lonely out here? I don't suppose you have a settlement, magical or otherwise, within miles." He sounded genuinely intrigued and she relaxed a little.

"There's a small village around ten miles from here," she provided. She pointed ahead while avoiding looking at him directly. She did, however, feel him inch a bit closer. It did not help matters. She could now smell his soap; something slightly musky, not like anything she owned. The deep blue jumper really suited him well, she thought. It brought out his eyes…

"So you get all your supplies there?"

"Mostly," she replied, still trying hard to shake off the effect of his closeness and all the new feelings he was evoking. Hermione knew she was acting immaturely but had no clue how to sort her head. "There's a patch of land behind the house. We grow some vegetables there."

"And you both tend to it?" he asked, amazed. "Wow, Mum tried to make Gin and me grow some before we went to Hogwarts. That did not go well," he chuckled and she looked up at him instinctively, regretting it immediately. His eyes lit up with that smile, and her heart skipped another beat.  _This is foolish,_  she berated herself exasperatedly. She really needed to stop.

Hermione blamed Alice for this mess. She would not have noticed anything about him if Alice had not teased her about it.  _Okay, that wasn't totally correct, but anyway…_

"Erm, it's getting colder. We better go in," she suggested and pulled her cloak closer to her body. There was a moment when he looked at her as if on the brink of saying something, but the moment passed and she hurriedly turned around, taking a quick few steps away from him. Ron Weasley was adding a lot of colour to her mundane surroundings, and it wasn't at all sensible to get used to something that wouldn't last.

She was just wondering if he'd follow her when there was the sound of boots clapping against the wood. She turned around and sure enough, he was using the rails to balance his weight as he limped ahead.

"Seriously?!" she snapped and took a few quick strides to reach him. "Where are your crutches?" she asked as she grabbed his left arm and placed it on her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Erm, I…" he mumbled, surely caught off looked up at him in annoyance and noticed that his ears were red.  _Stupid man! Now he was probably catching a cold!_  Ron opened and closed his mouth a couple of times while she adjusted her hold. _How she hated when her patients didn't follow instructions!_

"It makes me feel really helpless, and I kinda hate it," he admitted with a nervous grin.

She was about to come back with a sharp rebuke when their eyes met, and the realisation of their situation struck her like the Knight Bus. Up close, his fragrance was almost overpowering, making her pleasantly giddy. And his eyes were definitely more beautiful than she had thought earlier. He was tall,  _really tall_. She was practically wrapped in his arms this way, and it was hard to say how much she'd manage to actually help him (or herself if this continued).

_Just a patient, just a patient, just a patient,_ she muttered furiously to herself. The logical thing to do would be to Accio his crutches or get him into a wheelchair. She waited for him to suggest that. He didn't.

"You won't be able to hold my weight, Hermione," he said softly. She looked straight at the door only to avoid meeting that gaze, hoping with all her might that he hadn't noticed her blush. "We'll manage, just hold onto the railing," she replied quietly.

Slowly they trudged ahead with Ron balancing the weight mostly on his good leg. He held onto the rails first and then the wall as they moved indoors. Hermione wasn't sure she had helped him at all, but she didn't let go of him either. On second thought, what she was doing was totally unnecessary as he  _had_  managed to get to the porch all by himself earlier.  _BUT, she hadn't seen him do that at the time,_  she argued to herself.

Once they were in the kitchen, Alice gave them a sceptical look as she came forward to pull Ron a chair. The woman smirked and arched her brows behind Ron's back and Hermione tried her best to keep a straight face.

"I feel like a total prat, honestly, troubling you ladies with my presence."

"Oh, it's alright, Auror!" joked Alice as she pulled a chair for herself, "My sister, despite her snobbish exterior, is quite a soft person at heart. She has always been this way with her patients."

Hermione busied herself with getting the tea and heard Ron gasp. Once she was seated, Ron looked at the two women, totally startled.

"Sister?!" he casually spooned sausages and eggs onto his plate before replying.

"Not by blood, but does that matter?"

"Nah, Harry is practically my brother too," he shrugged. "So you both, I mean, I apologize if I'm being intrusive but I don't remember seeing you at Hogwarts," he asked as Alice offered him the bread basket.

"That's because I never went to Hogwarts," she provided. Hermione could see Ron was totally lost. He watched the wand placed next to Alice.

"But you're a witch, right? We saw you cast spells," he asked again.

While Hermione argued with herself how much she could confide in him. Thankfully Alice took the reins of the conversation while she was still debating.

"Hermione's father found me in America during one of his trips," she began, and Hermione could see the story unfold in front of her once again. It had been years; she was barely five at the time.

"I was born into a migrant muggle family. From what little I remember being told, my father was originally from a tribal village in Africa. A hunter visiting their village took him to America with the promise of a better life. It was all a lie. Suddenly, my father found himself in an unknown land, amidst people who spoke a tongue he didn't understand and not a penny in his pocket. He was made to work with minimal pay. Took him years to gather the courage and money to run away in search of a better life." Alice paused and sipped from her cup.

Meanwhile, Hermione sneaked a glimpse at Ron. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see but he appeared more empathetic that intrigued. Why Alice was confiding so much to a person they barely knew was beyond her understanding, but there was little Hermione could do or say without perking Ron's curiosity further.

"He travelled far away and somewhere along the way, met my mother. They married and had kids but life was far from easy. By the time I was born, there were more mouths to feed than they could afford. Needless to say, when my magical abilities surfaced, it scared the life out of them. They took me to see a 'doctor' who promised to 'cure' me. But the man took me away and sold me off." At this point, Hermione placed her hand over her sister's. No matter how light Alice made of the situation, they both knew it was a horror she could never forget. Alice smiled at her before she faced Ron again and continued.

"I managed to escape after the worst six months of my life, but they had taken me far away from our quaint little town. I no longer knew where I was. I found myself in a busy street, crowded with odd-looking shops and strangely dressed people. Soon, however, I realised that I was no longer an outsider or freak; everyone there was as  _different_  as I was."

While she heard the story she knew by heart already, Hermione was once again transported back in time to when it had all begun. Alice's story, familiar though it was, never ceased to amaze her. It was truly incredible to imagine how a barely ten-year-old Alice had braved it all alone. Perhaps if she had got the chance, she'd have landed in Gryffindor...

"I was on the streets for a couple of days," continued Alice, as an intrigued Ron listened on. "Had to be extremely careful as there were still people looking for me. On one occasion, I narrowly escaped being caught by hiding under some broken crates that were dumped behind a bar. I was petrified to even venture out that night, although I was practically starving. I might have dozed off at some point, but when I woke up, I found a man with kind eyes looking at me. He pulled me out and gave me his warm cloak. I must have looked miserable- hungry and lost. He took me out for a meal. It was the most decent one I had seen in all my life," she smiled fondly.

"What happened next?" Ron asked. Hermione noticed he hadn't touched his food yet.

"He got me some new clothes and took me to the Ministry to trace my family," Alice replied. "I was underaged and without a guardian. All I could tell them was my name, the name of my parents, and my locality. They tried but couldn't trace my family. Perhaps they left after I was kidnapped, who knows? There was nowhere I could go. To go to school I had to be eleven and I didn't even know my age. My parents weren't legally American citizen, perhaps that was the reason why my name wasn't enrolled at Illvermony."

"So he brought you to England when he returned home?" he asked.

"First he tried to enrol me at school back in America."

"Something tells me that didn't work out," he added and Alice laughed.

"No, it didn't. Also, the man I was sold off to sent his goons to get me back."

"Bloody hell!" he fumed.

"Father had guessed as much, and thankfully there were Aurors to nab them. But yes, he decided it was best to bring me here- if I agreed, of course. But why would I not? He was offering me the chance of a lifetime."

Ron looked at Hermione and there was something in his eyes. She gave him a small smile and went back to looking at her plate. It was always hard remembering her father. Especially now, after the recent events, she couldn't help but wish that he was around to guide them.

"Why didn't he send you to Hogwarts instead?" he asked.

"He couldn't but doesn't mean he didn't try. Dumbledore, we heard, was more than willing but the School's Board members turned us down."

"That's barmy. Must be that old bastard Malfoy," he fumed, "How did you learn magic then?"

Alice smiled and looked at Hermione. "Hermione taught me, and for the rest, I was homeschooled."

"Were you already at school by then?" he asked her.

"No, I was barely five when Alice came down to live with us. Dad began teaching us together before I started school. Alice might never have set foot at Hogwarts but she's one amazing witch," she added proudly.

"You don't have to tell me that!" he laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. "We've faced her curses already. Lucky I didn't lose the other leg too!"

The women laughed at his expression, and Hermione couldn't help think that it had been way too long since three people had sat at their table together. It indeed was a pleasant change.

…...

Later, when he had retired to his room on the pretext of getting a bit of rest, Ron pulled out the blank parchment. A couple of spells were cast that would give Harry the message.

" _Find out more about her father and adopted sister. Check with the American Ministry about a Muggleborn witch called Alice who was rescued by Granger Senior twenty years ago. Let me know the time when we can discuss. Need to know if her story is true."_


	7. Stuck Indoor: Day 2(Early Morning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to two of my internet besties- my awesome beta idearlylovealaugh and Jenn582, co-creator of this story.

The day was cold and dreary, made worse by the lack of action that, Ron was sure, awaited him back in London. He had checked the parchment fifty times already, but Harry had either not checked it yet, or was too busy to respond. With his anxiety getting worse by the minute, Ron tried hopelessly to convince himself that nothing major could have happened within a few short hours. But the Auror in him was hard to fool. He knew that these things were not time-bound. It was always possible that the boys had managed to capture another bastard or found some other lead. His guilt intensified at the thought that, for the first time in years, he didn't have Harry's back during one of their important missions. Not that the bloke needed it- Harry was bloody brilliant of course, but Ron had promised himself to be there through everything. And now he had failed his best mate at a time when it was of utmost importance.

He grumbled to himself again. That seemed to be the only thing he had been doing ever since they arrived at the Granger house- grumbling and cursing himself. He could think of little else that he could do with his injury. To add salt to the wound, he was stuck in this house in the middle of nowhere like a sissy while the rest of the team was out in the field, risking their lives. With his frustration peaking once again, he pushed himself up from the bed, eager to get out of the cosy little room.

He had only managed a couple of steps to the door and pulled on the knob with way more force than necessary when something totally unexpected happened. The sudden act caused the girl on the other side of the wood to come crashing onto his chest. Hermione let out a shriek that muffled into his jumper. Amidst all that confusion, his injured leg gave way and he landed with a thud on the bed, bringing her down along with him. The box of potions in her hand came crashing down on the bed, the vials hopefully all intact.

"Blimey," he gasped. Hermione raised her head, fluttering eyelids opening slowly and beautiful, flustered eyes meeting his.

_Sweet Merlin..._ "I'm, I'm sorry..," he managed to mumble, ears ready to burst into flames as she stumbled to find her footing. During the few short moments before she managed to extricate herself, Ron did not fail to notice how her fists were on his chest, bunching his jumper between them, or that his arm had wrapped around her waist. She was really small and their bodies seemed to fit perfectly. Heat rose to his neck, and with much difficulty (and a fair bit of reluctance) he too managed to sit up straight while Hermione untangled herself from his arms completely.

"What was the rush?" she asked, trying but not quite succeeding in acting nonplussed. She quickly turned away and busied herself with opening and checking the medicine kit for damage.

Ron sat quietly, still struggling to overcome the effect of having her in his arms once again. It was the second time it had happened in the past few hours. The woman was surely trying to kill him. It was almost embarrassing how her touch left him breathless. He was way too old to get tongue-tied by the proximity of a woman, he reasoned, but Hermione wasn't just 'any woman'. Did she realise how she was affecting him? More importantly, was she initiating proximity to draw his attention away from something else? He cursed the doubting Auror in him, turning to watch her instead.

"Weren't you supposed to be at the hospital?" he inquired, glancing at the kit. The box and its contents seemed to have remained unscathed during the fall. However, if  _this_ \- whatever it was between them- went on any longer, Ron was sure, his heart wouldn't be as lucky as the box.

Hermione, he noticed, picked up a couple of vials and mixed their contents. The green coloured potion fizzed and gave off a pungent smell.

"I took the day off," she explained, corking the empty vial and putting it back.

"Don't trust me enough to leave me alone?"

She met his eyes in a challenge which Ron found he enjoyed a little too much.

"Don't give yourself so much credit, Auror," she stated calmly, patting his sensationless limb, "you are not in the best form at the moment."

He chuckled. "Trust me, Healer, I've been worse. But why are you home if not to keep an eye on me?"

"Let's see if you are any better," she said instead of replying to his query.

Ron leaned to rest his back against the headrest and stretched his legs. She waved her wand and the fabric was ripped apart to his knee. She murmured an incantation and poured the potion over his wounds. Ron, who was busy watching her while she examined him, let out a shriek when she suddenly tapped on his knee with her wand, and not too lightly either.

"OUCH! Bloody hell, what was that?!"

"It's healing," she replied with a smile.

He looked at her and his leg in disbelief before his brain caught up with the reality.  _Blimey, she was right! He could feel his knee again!_ He beamed at her, patting his leg to ensure he wasn't dreaming. It hurt unimaginably but he laughed in relief. He was finally healing! Now if his leg followed soon, he could get back to Harry.

"By the way, where were you off to?" she asked, and he noticed she was busy putting her paraphernalia back in the kit.

"Hoping to get some tea," he lied with a straight face.

"I could get you some," she offered.

He knew she would insist on rest, but she'd not understand he could not possibly take a nap in a cosy little bed while his team was out there fighting. At least if he sat out on the porch, he could pretend to be on guard duty.

"It's alright. I was also planning to sit outdoors for a while," he replied.

"You should take a nap. The more sleep you get, the sooner this heals."

Ron just about managed to cut out the groan that was threatening to escape. "I'd barely sleep for a few hours anyway. I've had my fill for the day," he replied, ready to get up on his feet.

Hermione, who was almost by the door, turned sharply and stopped him with a soft touch on his shoulder. Even though the layers of wool and cloth, her touch sent pleasant shivers down his spine. She removed her hand quickly when their eyes met, while Ron struggled to get enough air into his lungs without making it obvious.

He almost stopped breathing when she flushed under his gaze and bit her lower lip softly before she replied. "I'll get you some. Let the potion work. Don't stress the limb for a while."

As Hermione left the room, he took a couple of deep, steadying breaths.  _Did she behave the same way with all her patients? Perhaps it was just her nature, and the flicker of whatever he thought was between them was all in his head?_  She was a healer after all; touching the patient was a part of her job.  _But what about the stolen glances? Was that his imagination too?_ He was torn between the arguments his head and heart seemed to put did say that she was a very compassionate person at heart, his heart reasoned. But it was also possible that he was seeing exactly what he  _wanted_ to see, his brain countered.

"Bloody hell," he swore to himself.

He needed his sanity and he also needed to get away- from this house, from her. Despite the irrefutable logic behind the thought, his heart felt heavy. Once he was healed, there'd no longer be a reason for him to stay back- unless of course she was involved in this shite. He seriously hoped she wasn't though. Maybe he could see her later? Visit the hospital on the pretext of a review checkup of his injury? He was a bloody Auror after all. There was always the chance of him being gravely injured. Would she remember him enough to see him if that happened? Would she care enough to heal him herself? Would it be absolutely barmy to get injured purposefully just to see her again?

His detrimental line of thought was interrupted by the soft knock on the door. Hermione walked in carrying a tray with two cups of tea. He scooted to give her some space, but she placed the tray on the bed, picked up a cup and pulled a chair for herself.

"You didn't tell me why you missed worked today," he asked after taking a sip.

She smacked her lips and sighed. "I had decided to take the day off even before you arrived, Ron. I needed time to deal with Albert's death."

The air between them hung heavy with unspoken doubts and Ron continued to quietly sip on his tea, waiting for her to resume the conversation.

A few silent minutes later, he placed his empty cup on the tray, adjusting his pillows and reclining back. "I was really hoping you had more information about him. If he indeed is innocent as you claim, you can help us solve his murder and bring his murderers to justice," he reasoned.

She continued to sip on her cup, while Ron felt pleasantly drowsy and settled further into the pillows. He could faintly hear a voice in his head prodding him to stay awake, but the bed was immensely comfortable. And he hadn't slept well in days. As the buzzing in his ears intensified, he could see a distorted image of Harry asking him to be alert. Then Harry's face morphed into Mad-Eye and he giggled lazily.  _Constant Viggii- Veggie- Vella- What was the word anyway? Fuck it. He'd probably remember once he had a nice, long nap._

"Get some rest, Ron," he heard someone say, and then he couldn't remember anything else.

…..

Ron opened his eyes to a dark, drafty room. There seemed to be a storm brewing outside and the windows rattled on their hinges. He Accioed his rucksack and dug for his cloak; it was still mud-stained from the night before but it would have to do. Next, he repaired his jeans and glanced at his watch. It was well past midnight.

"FUCK!" he roared, quickly checking his pockets for his wand and the communication parchment. Relieved that both objects were still with him, he pushed himself off the bed and trudged ahead to light the candles.

In the glow of the flames, he hurriedly checked for an answer from Harry but it was still empty. It was hard to decide if he felt relieved or disappointed about it, but his attention was soon drawn to the chill seeping into the room. The flames only stayed alive for a few precious minutes before extinguishing in the gust of chilly air that blew in from a crack somewhere. Ron cast a few warming spells, but as the roar of the storm and possibly hail outside intensified, he was sure that even his Auror-level spells were no match against Nature's Fury

Once in the living space, he was glad to find some wood and within minutes a warm fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace. Having warmed off the chill in his hands, he sat back on the couch, his legs stretched in front of him.

Now that imminent threat of freezing to death was dealt with, his anger returned in full force. She had drugged him. Nothing but that could explain his half-a-day long nap. Doubt that had been buried under layers of attraction resurfaced. Hermione was hiding something. She surely had other plans for the day, which he'd have messed up by his presence. And to think that he had begun to trust her-  _idiot._  Of course, that is what he deserved for letting his guard down around her. His stomach growled with hunger, and he realised he hadn't eaten since morning. Fuck it, t'was fine, he'd manage somehow. Eating here was out of the question. Who knew what other potion she might slip into his food this time?

He placed his arms behind his head, closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He was being a fool, lulled by this inactivity and the serene ambience. Of course, it was all a sham. How could he forget that the very reason he doubted her in the first place was because of her secretive lifestyle? Maybe it was all part of a game. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought, but the fact was fact. It was clear that he had to be on guard all the time until his leg healed, and once it did, he could leave these couple of days behind him- forever.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him and his senses were immediately on high alert. He kept his eyes shut, feigning sleep, hearing the steps approaching him. The footsteps paused and he prepared himself for an attack, hand still behind his head, but ready to pull out the wand. Was he being foolish? He was giving her ample opportunity to stun or curse him. But she had not done any of those things so far, so he assumed she was still weighing her options. The footsteps came closer, and he could feel her standing right next to him. He took his chance then. It was a skill honed by years of practice. Before Hermione could make out what was happening, he had grabbed her by the waist and turned them around, pinning her down on the couch. With one hand grabbing her neck with enough force to keep her in position but not enough to hurt her, he pulled his wand and placed it at her jaw.

In the light of the wand and the glow of the fire, he finally noticed the vision that lay out in front of him. His knees were on either side of her waist while she lay vulnerable under him. Her hair was all spilled around her head, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. The sight sent strange shivers down his spine straight to his groin, but he was not ready to acknowledge them yet. However, he did notice that she wasn't putting up a fight; in fact, she barely looked fazed apart from being slightly embarrassed perhaps. Now that he noticed, she wasn't even holding a wand-  _only a blanket?!_

He clambered away from her and rubbed the back of his neck vigorously.  _What the fuck was happening?_

"Care to explain?" he asked, not masking his frustration.

"Thought you'd be cold," she replied calmly.

He glared at her, moving a few paces closer and grabbing her wrist. "You know what I'm talking about!" he barked. "Did no one tell you that spiking someone's drink without their knowledge is an offence?"

"Let go of my hand," she said calmly, but it was anything but a plea.

He released her immediately. "So what next? Planning to Stun me?"

"I had plenty of chances to do that by now, didn't I?"

He couldn't argue with that logic, but he was too upset to be polite. He hated that even now, her voice was cooling him down- almost against his wish. "What was with that tea, then?"

"You needed rest, Ron, and you weren't going to do that willingly, were you? No, you would only walk around and make it worse!"

"So you drugged me?" he scowled.

"I did not drug you!" she retorted angrily this time. "I just gave you a mild sedative. It reacted with the poison to knock you out!"

"And can you honestly tell me you didn't know that would happen?" he spat back. "Or was it the same with Albert? Did you give him some miscalculated drug that backfired? And is that why you are hiding out here?"

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

If he was not already feeling sick the moment the words escaped him, the hurt in her eyes almost tore him apart. She looked away, replying after a brief pause and in an oddly composed voice. "They would have performed an autopsy by now, Auror Weasley. You'd think your team would have been here to arrest me already if that was the case, wouldn't they?"

"Hermione, I-I didn't mean it that way," he apologised earnestly.

"I don't intend to kill anyone, Auror-" she stated in an emotionless voice telling him clearly that he had hurt her quite a bit, "-neither Albert and most certainly not you." She picked up the bundle from the floor where it had fallen and pulled out a heavy deep green jacket. "I was just here to give you this," she added, handing it to him, face stoic, "-and the blanket. Thought you'd be cold."

She turned away, and Ron grabbed her hand before he could overthink it. "Hermione?" he pleaded, tugging at her arm, but she avoided turning around.

"Good to know that you are still weighing our involvement in the case, Auror. Brings perspective,"

she stated in her cold, emotionless voice. He groaned aloud and took a few paces to stand in front of her while she continued to look away.

"Hermione, I-", he sighed, and ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. "I am an Auror," he explained, "I - I can't fucking help acting this way, it's second nature. And-and you can't feed me a sedative without my knowledge and not expect me to be mad!"

Hermione used her other hand to pry Ron's fingers from her wrist. "You should at least take a look at your leg before you blame me, Auror," she replied.

"What about-", he began, and suddenly it struck him. He was moving around more freely than he had since the blasted poisoning. "Blimey, it's better!" he beamed.

"Not completely and not yet. The pain might resurface but at least this means the antidotes are working."

He didn't think he could be more ashamed (although the Auror in him was still a little sceptical), but he was also relieved. Did any of it make sense? Perhaps not. "Hermione, look, I'm, I'm sorry, I can't help-"

"-doubting everyone in your vicinity?" she shot back viciously, for once looking him in the eye. He cursed under his breath. "You are my patient, Auror," she added, "it's my duty to heal you. I don't care if you trust me, I'll do my job anyway."

He sighed as she turned away. How had the tables turned in her favour? Wasn't  _he_  supposed to be mad at  _her_?

"You should eat," she said abruptly and walked away to the kitchen. Within minutes, she was back with a tray laden with food. She warmed it with a spell and set it in front of him on the table.

Ron remembered that he had decided not to accept any food while at her house, but he found his resolve weakening. She had proved the drug was for the best. His pain had almost subsided. And some insane part of him wanted to trust her.

She picked up the spoon and took a sip of soup before handing it to him.

"Proving that I didn't poison your food," she answered his silent query.

_Fuck_! Couldn't she stop trying to make him feel guilty? He grabbed the bowl, relishing the warmth seeping into his palms, while she took a sip from his cup.

"Hermione, seriously, you-"

"No, Auror. It's fine," she replied proceeding to take a bite of everything on his plate, "not all poisons can be detected by spells alone. This is the easiest way to-"

"Stop it!" He placed his bowl down and turned to her. "Hermione-" What could he say to her anyway? "We haven't met under the best of circumstances. I don't-" he exhaled, and ran his fingers through his hair again, at a loss for words. "You don't know the kind of life I have," he explained, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his words. "We are taught to question everything, to be on guard at all times, no exceptions. I've forgotten when was the last time I slept so soundly, or that long for that matter. It makes me anxious, I'm not supposed to-"

"-let your guard down? Take a break?" she finished for him. Something sad and painful floated in her eyes before she looked away.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Must be exhausting," she said softly.

"It is," he found himself saying. It had been years, but Ron had never felt the need to take a break from his job. Perhaps he lacked the motivation, he thought as he watched the firelight glistening around her locks. Years had passed, one just the same as the other, and he had been busy, chasing criminals, raiding hideouts, fighting. A few free nights every month was spent in the bar drinking with the boys. There were girls- pretty faces that hung around in packs. Perks of being Aurors, the boys called them. But not for him. He went back to his room at Grimmauld Place, sometimes with Harry, and on the days when the bloke was busy with Ginny, all by himself. Maybe he needed this distance to reflect. Where was he heading anyway? This was the first time he had actually stopped to look back, and watching the girl sitting next to him, with the fire crackling in the hearth and the tantalizing aroma of food, he realised his life was missing some crucial elements - starting with someone he could go home to.

He picked up the soup bowl and took a spoonful, trying hard not to remember that the lucky spoon had touched her lips.

He could sense her watching him, and when he met her eyes, she looked away hurriedly. "I should leave, Auror," she declared as she stood up.

" 'Ron'," he said quietly, looking at the thick liquid swirling in the bowl. Finally, determined, he looked up and met her eyes. "I have a name, you know. Why do you say 'Auror' every time?"

She held his gaze but a curtain of sorts hung over it. "It's good to remind myself that you are first and foremost an 'Auror', and here on Auror business."

He took a few deep breaths. "In that case, thank you for everything, Healer."

Her lips quivered and Ron hoped he would find a glimpse of what lay under that guarded exterior, but then she turned away.

"Do you always care so much about all your patients, Healer?" he found himself asking.

"Wear the jacket. I'm sure you don't want to catch a cold and stay here longer than you have to," she replied before walking away.

"The question here is, do  _you_  want me to leave," he asked, but only after she had left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all liked it! Looking forward to knowing what you guys think Hermione could be hiding.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, co-creator credits go to my dear friend @jenn582 and beta credits to the amazing @idearlylovealaugh

**Traces of Truth: Day 3**

Ron watched her leave. He kept hoping to find some hint of reluctance in her retreating form but Hermione was as guarded as ever. Her steps were hurried and determined, as if she couldn't wait to get away from his proximity. He stood where he was, next to the couch on which he had pinned her, and had to literally bite back the urge to call her and apologise. There was nothing he could tell her- not yet, at least- but he could feel the loneliness seep back into his life with every step she took in the other direction.

Eventually the faint sound of her footsteps faded into the silence of the night and he turned away to notice the unfinished tray of food still on the table. No longer as hungry as before, he placed the bowl of soup on the tray; the soft ache in his heart had overpowered his need for nourishment. Glancing once more at the staircase, he sighed exasperatedly before grabbing a couple of old cushions and throwing them roughly on the couch. He'd rather sleep here where he'd get to know whenever she came downstairs than go back into that room.

He slumped down on the couch. A bundle poked him in the back, and Ron pulled the jacket she had brought for him from underneath his body.

_She had come back to check on him…_

In hindsight, he felt rather guilty about his behaviour -no matter how justified it had seemed in the moment. Ron vehemently hoped that he hadn't hurt her physically at least. He glanced at the warm article in his hand, pondering who it could have originally belonged to- her father perhaps? It looked a size smaller, and would surely be a stretch around his shoulders, but he'd squeeze into it. Heck, he'd wear it even if it was tight enough to choke him to death. He put it on, immediately relishing the warmth it provided. It was indeed small and hung wide open at the front, but it was comfortable. Most importantly, it was something from her- a gesture of pity or professional dedication, he wasn't sure which- but he'd take whatever came his way.

Finally he lay across the couch, his legs hanging over the armrest on one end and arms tucked behind his head on the other, and thought back on the moments when he had pinned her on this very surface. Guilt slithered in, wiping off the faint traces of hope. He had not just offended but hurt her as well. At least he had tried explaining, he reflected miserably, but wasn't very confident that any of his reasons had truly convinced her. He groaned and turned in the limited space to watch the dying fire in the hearth, cursing the complexity of the situation.  _If only they had met under better situations, if only he had befriended her at school, if only..._

…..

Hermione forced the anger and hurt to stay buried, concentrating hard on her breathing as she climbed up the stairs quickly. She could still feel him watching her-  _or it could be wishful thinking-_ and she increased her pace lest she gave in to the urge to turn around. Once on the first floor, she hastened till she was out of his hearing range and then she broke into a dash, hurrying into a room Ron was not supposed to know existed.

She wiped the few stray tears that had forced their way out and jerked open the rickety glass cabinet; dusty bottles rattled in their places with the impact. The labels were old and handwritten, the words almost fading, but Hermione knew every vial in there like the back of her hand, just like she knew the hand that prepared and marked them. She browsed through a fair few on the top shelf till she found the one she was looking for. With the bottle clasped firmly between her fingers, she rushed ahead to leave the room- and paused on the doorstep.

Two drops, that would be all; Ron would be able to walk out of the house within an hour, all healed and fit. He'd need no further treatment, he'd be gone from her life forever.

Her hand shook a little and she grabbed the vial harder.  _Why stop? He surely didn't trust her,_  and she was being stupid by dreaming of things that she wasn't supposed to expect in the first place. But... _he'd be gone forever…_ Her feet stalled and dragged her back into the room. She placed the vial on the bench, looking unseeing at the potion bubbling away in the cauldron and picked up the bottle again. Conflicted, she fumbled with the vial in her hand.

She couldn't risk him knowing. The longer he stayed, the greater was his chances of venturing into their secret sanctums.  _And wouldn't he question his sudden recovery and the miracle drug?_  She placed the vial back, telling herself that the only reason for her to hide the infallible potion was to keep her secret. With the traditional medicines, he'd still need two more days to heal completely.

_Two more days…_

Hermione never had the liberty to dream, and at some point in her life, had learned to live with it. Everything changed when the tall redhead limped into her house- unannounced and uninvited- to turn her world upside down. She knew nothing would come of her dreams. Certain things were unattainable. Once he left, Ron and the future she could have possibly had with him would remain a lifelong regret.

She wasn't asking for a lot, after all. Life could loan her two days of wishful longing, _couldn't it?_ Two days worth of impossible dreams that she'd then hold on for the rest of her life?

…...

Ron heard the faint footsteps descending the stairs but kept his eyes shut- if only his fast beating heart was as cooperative. He could hear it throbbing madly, and for a moment was worried she'd hear it as well. For the second time that night, soft footsteps came closer to his apparent sleeping form.

In a matter of two short days, his senses had learned to recognise her fragrance and associate it with her smile. He wasn't sure he had seen her smile at all, but he knew she'd look like a dream when she did. While he was silently contemplating if turning towards her while feigning sleep would give his act away, something miraculous happened. A spell was muttered and the blanket was placed over him. The warmth that spread through his body was not just because of her brilliant spellwork, Ron knew that for sure.

As her hand rested close to his chest, tucking the blanket snugly over him, he reacted on instinct and opened his eyes. He couldn't afford to miss this opportunity for the world.  _Who knew, it could be his last and only chance to find her so close._  The glow from the fire had dimmed further and her hair framed her face, crazy curls glinting in the fading firelight. He let out an open-mouth sigh at the blissful sight, and her eyes darted to meet his before she gasped and jolted away.

"I thought I was just a patient," he said, pushing himself to a sitting position as she rushed away towards the stairs.

"You are," she replied, pausing mid-step but facing away.

"Then you should be able to say that to my face."  _Blimey, how was he managing to be so up-front and bold?!_ Desperation perhaps.

She turned around after a moment of hesitation and Ron could almost feel his heart skipping several beats. He reluctantly pushed off the blanket she had placed over him to stand.

"Anything I say will make you doubt me more, Auror," she said softly. "You don't trust me, remember?"

Her words sliced through him like a violent spell and he struggled to find a reply. "All I expect is honesty," he managed.

She chuckled bitterly for some reason and proceeded to climb up. Soon she was gone, leaving Ron to ponder alone in the silence.

…

It was late morning when Ron woke up, groggy and with sore muscles. He had spent the night awake, restless and cramped in the limited space, and had dozed off only in the wee hours of the morning.

As he pushed himself up from the couch, he noticed a vial placed on the table with a note next to it.

"Two gulps after breakfast- H."

He picked it up and looked around the empty room.  _Great, now she wasn't even going to administer the potions herself_. He left the couch, the vial in his hand, and noticed that the ache was back. Feeling utterly annoyed for reasons he couldn't totally justify, he limped his way to the small study.  _Heck, if she was so unconcerned, he'd as well leave._

Determined to pack and get out of the house at the earliest, he hurried as much as his injured leg allowed. A totally unreasonable part of him wanted to go away and only leave a note behind.

Ron had barely managed to get rid of the jacket and tie his Auror robes when his wand buzzed violently. Instantly alert, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the conversation parchment, unlocking it frantically.

Harry's writing materialised- unruly and smudged, as if written in great hurry.

"Meeting you in five minutes. Outside the wards."

"Bloody hell!" he hissed and pushed the parchment back into his pocket before grabbing his wand and limping towards the main door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he grumbled as he made his way out. It had to be damn serious for Harry to come personally. Or perhaps he was being called back. In any case, his leg  _had_  to cooperate for him to get any work done.

He had barely made it to the porch when he noticed a blurry object appear just beyond the gates. Ron grumbled some more as he made his way through the pebbled walkway leading up to the gate and stopped just before the boundary wall, wand held firmly in his hand.

"What is the one Christmas present I received that I loathe beyond all?" he asked the tall man who was staring at his limping form disapprovingly.

"A gold locket that said 'sweetheart' from your one great love," replied the newcomer.

"Wanker," Ron grinned as he swiftly undid the wards. He turned around towards the house, expecting to see a bushy-haired, furious someone appear as the wards came down. But just as before, it was Alice who came running. She paused midway at the steps, wand held high, scrutinizing Harry while glaring hard at Ron.

"Harry Potter," he introduced. "You must've heard about him?"

Surprise and awe were evident on her face as she lowered her wand. "You could have told us you were inviting your friends," she added curtly after a brief pause, although she did proceed to undo the rest of the wards, allowing Harry a quick entry before redoing the protections again.

"Hi, and I am sorry for intruding without prior notice, but I need to talk to Ron," provided Harry as he walked up swiftly and gave Ron a quick one-armed hug. "I could kick your arse, mate," he muttered quietly.

"Totally deserve it," Ron agreed.

"Don't worry, I'll be off soon," Harry informed Alice, who took another look at the two of them and walked away after a stiff nod.

"And I am leaving with him," Ron announced suddenly. Alice turned around promptly, brows furrowed.

"Hermione didn't say you are healed yet."

"Tell Heale she need not worry on my account. I'll be fine," he retorted and gestured Harry to follow him into the house.

"Guess who isn't a tad bit grateful," stated Harry once they had entered the study and warded the room with Auror level spells.

Ron grunted a response as he sat down on the bed, massaging his knee. "Can't stay here forever," he muttered. His annoyance was getting worse by the minute, and he knew a fair amount of it was totally unreasonable. In short, he was being a total prat. "What brings you here all of a sudden?"

Harry, who was glancing around the room, pulled the only chair and sat down. He scratched his stubbled jaws absentmindedly before he spoke.

"Nothing's adding up, Ron," he sighed and flattened his fringe, absentmindedly covering the old scar. "Carlie disappeared. Kidnapped, more likely."

"Carlie?" he asked; the name sounded very familiar but his potion-addled brain couldn't place where he had heard it.

"Albert's wife."

"What?!" What was the point of kidnapping a dead man's wife? Unless of course, she knew more than they had previously assumed.

"Yeah, lucky the kid was at the neighbour's. We've taken her to a safe house."

"Did we miss something when we interrogated her?" he inquired, mentally running through the meagre information they had. He was sure he had missed a lot since he'd been injured.

"No, she was distraught and couldn't say much, but-"

"But?"

"How much did you find out about Granger?"

Ron's heart gave an uncomfortable twitch at the sudden question. "Why do you ask?" he inquired, not missing the look of concern on Harry's face.

"I did a background check, mate. And yeah, pretty much all of what you said about the Grangers is true." Ron exhaled in relief, but Harry wasn't done with his story. "We checked our sources. Alice has been a regular, buying some Class-C Nontradables such as bloodroot. She's also been paying a good number of galleons to get her yearly consignments of Witch's Ganglion."

Ron's brain was all messed up. Didn't Hermione specifically say that her father's old lab had been shut since his death? What was with all the potions, then?

"What are those ingredients for?"

"Nothing we can directly charge them with. And I don't reckon we should put them on their guard yet. Most of the stuff she buys are ingredients not necessarily used for the regular potions. Witch's Ganglion, for example, is a pretty rare, exotic plant and its uses are not quite known. However- it doesn't come cheap."

"Why do they need such expensive ingredients…" Ron pondered aloud.

"Where does Alice work?" inquired Harry, pulling Ron from his musings.

"Not quite sure. Haven't seen her leaving though. I can't say that I'd be able to tell if she's been in the house all the time either."

"Do you suppose Granger is behind all this? They need a fair amount of money to be paying for all those ingredients, for so many years." Ron's chest felt heavy; could he be so wrong with his judgement?

"Wait, what if Alice is stealing from her? Perhaps Hermione doesn't know?" Harry, Ron could see, was watching him curiously.

"What makes you say that, Ron?" he countered, counting off on his fingers, "She is the daughter of a renowned Potioneer, makes a decent wage from her job and is secretive as hell- how do we know she isn't involved in this mess? And she knew Albert- was the only person that we know could have directly poisoned him."

Frustrated, Ron pushed himself off the bed and began pacing as fast as his leg allowed.

"We're missing somethin' for sure."

For a while Ron limp-paced while Harry watched him, hands folded at his chest.

"I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the two of them," Harry declared finally. Ron whipped around to glare at his best mate. Fuck, he couldn't do it. His head was all messed up- he had already breached the first law of his Auror training and got his emotions all mixed up with the mission. His investigation would be biased and he'd keep looking out for loopholes to keep her safe.

"Can't do it, Harry. I'm gonna leave. Get one of the boys," he suggested, hobbling to the bed and beginning to stuff his few belongings inside his rucksack. Harry was quick to grab his arm to stop him.

"We haven't got a choice. They trust you-"

"-No, she doesn't," he spat angrily, jerking his hand away.

"Can't believe I've got to explain this to you!" Harry snapped back, "What the fuck is wrong with you, Ron?! You bloody well know what's at risk!"

"You wanna know what the fuck is wrong? I'm messing this whole mission up! I fucking fancy her, mate!" he bellowed before gasping aloud, surprised by his own declaration. "I should stay away," he added, regretfully.

Harry gaped at him for a while, then blew softly through his mouth and ran his fingers through his ever unruly hair, messing it up all the more. "Bugger, that-"

"-complicates matters. Yeah, tell me about it," Ron grumbled under his breath as he sat down on the bed again.

Both friends looked at each other for a while until Ron let out a groan. Harry was right. Ron had to sort his head and stay put. The mission was far more important than his one-sided feelings. "Fine, go on. I'll be here and keep you updated," he stated finally.

Harry picked himself up and patted Ron on the shoulder. "I'm getting security for all the major Potioneers we know."

"Yeah, good call," he responded, grumpy.

"I'll get going."

"And I'll be right here, sitting on my arse and doing nothing."

"Ron, you know that's not true. Moreover, she might not be involved at all. And if so, she'll need all the protection we can provide. Your presence helps our case in both ways!"

Ron chuckled despite his annoyance, "You're getting good at this diplomacy business, Harry. Very soon you'll be running for Kingsley's post. I am ashamed of you!"

"If we don't sort this soon we'll need a new Minister and Department Heads anyway, mate."

"Fuck, we are screwed, aren't we?"

"Not yet, we aren't. But unless we catch those bastards soon, we'll be royally fucked, yeah."

….

By mid-afternoon, Ron found himself in the kitchen alone with Alice. He hadn't seen Hermione all day. But of course, he was not going to inquire about her. His brain was muddled with the events of the previous night and the information Harry had provided. He couldn't help but look at his hosts in an entirely new light- and that did hurt on some deeply personal level. He pushed that thought aside, knowing the truth was never more important. The secrecy, the wards- everything made sense if they were brewing some illegal potions,  _but for what purpose?_ Hermione was well settled in her job and had a very clean reputation. What could be so important so as to make her risk everything she had?

"Here, you need to have this after your meal," said Alice. She handed him a plate and placed a small vial next to him.

He glanced at the bottle. "How do you guys have all the potions I need readily available in the house?"

Alice seemed to twitch a little but was quick to act poised and in control. "Hermione's a Healer. And we stay pretty far off from the city. Don't you think it makes sense for us to keep some antidotes at hand?"

He nodded. "Sure it does."

They ate in silence for a while before Alice spoke again. "I thought you were leaving with your friend."

"I thought so too but-" he shrugged, "-they are handling fine without me, and Harry reckoned I should ensure I heal first."

Alice gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Don't mind but I'm kinda looking forward to leaving. Dunno how you guys stay here all by yourself."

"Habit," she replied and went back to her food.

Ron, however, was not planning to give up so soon. "At least Hermione gets to leave the house. What do you do all by yourself all day?" he asked casually.

His Auror senses didn't fail to notice the sudden stiffening of her shoulders, or that her smile was more than a little forced. "It's not very lonely once you get used to it," she said. "And yes, I do visit the village, help the local Apothecary with their inventory and such."

"That's cool," he stated, pretending to be busy with his food.

Once they were done with their lunch- which did seem pretty hurried- Ron took his potion and handed the vial back to Alice, thanking her politely.

"I'll-"

The door opened with a jerk and a frizzy-haired woman appeared. For a whole minute, his well-planned dialogue escaped completely from him as he gazed at the pretty sight. She was adorable even when she was her frazzled-up, post-Apparition self. He hated the pang in his chest at the sight.

"Alice, I -" Hermione began but halted, as if caught off guard by his presence, and looked away quickly. Without a greeting or acknowledgement of any kind, she moved into the kitchen. "I need a quick bite."

Feeling extremely miffed, he slumped on the couch. Ignoring Hermione completely he spoke to Alice. "I can't sit on my arse all day doing nothing. Could I help you out with something?" he asked very politely and did not miss the sudden look the sisters shared.

"Erm...you must really rest!" Alice countered.

"Come on, there's got to be something I can do," He glanced at Hermione. If there indeed was a lab, it had to be somewhere on the upper floors. "I'm sure you have a proper study?" he added.

"No!" they both squeaked in unison, before looking very out of place.

"I'm starving," announced Hermione, and hurried to drop her robe on the chair and grab a plate for herself. He could say for sure that despite her act, she was keen to hear the rest of the conversation.

"What we mean is, the room you are staying in is the only study we have in this house," Alice provided.

"Oh, alright," he replied and glanced at the floor above. "In that case, I'll be in my room. Take a nap, I guess."

"Yes, that'll be good for you."

Hermione was still acting busy with her food when he turned away. Once in the old study, he closed the door before pulling out a long fleshy object from his pocket. He fed one end of it under the door and stuck the other in his ear.

The voices were hushed and worried.

" _You've got to heal him faster and send him off! He's getting curious!"_

The faint clinking of cutlery stopped, and the more familiar voice of the two sounded so close as if she was right next to him.

" _I- okay…"_

" _Hermione, we can't risk him seeing-"_

" _-I know, I know!"_

Ron stood, grabbing the door. He was now absolutely positive the women were hiding something and his anger at himself intensified.  _How could he be such a fool?!_

Alice was speaking very softly.  _"And we need more potions... Health's getting worse each day… At this rate…"_

" _No!"_  Hermione's voice was firm but laden with emotions,  _"I can't lose…"_ There was a soft, muffled sob.

Alice spoke after a while,  _"You've got to send him away, Hermione… He can't know there is another person in this house… they- the Ministry cannot know… We'll no longer be able to help if they figure out-"_

He couldn't hear what Hermione's response was. Perhaps due to the loud buzzing in his ears or the blood pounding in his veins.

They had another person in this house.

_They had another freaking person in the house?!_

Obviously, all these wards were to keep  _this_  person hidden and safe. Whoever he or she was, definitely meant a lot to Hermione. Her parents were dead and she had no siblings.  _Then_   _who could the person be? Her muggle husband? Or was it a non-magical child?_


	9. Out in the Open: Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I am so sorry for the delay-seems I always start with the same sentence nowadays :(
> 
> Anyhow, here it is- the big answer you've been waiting for. This chapter and the next will answer all the questions building up so far.  
> A big thanks to my prolific Beta and dear friend, idearlylovealaugh and a shoutout to my co-creator jenn582 for her valuable inputs
> 
> Seriously hope you guys like it!

 

**Out in the Open: Day 3**

He sat quietly, shocked to his core at the revelation. There was someone else in the house… He couldn't figure out why they needed to hide this person. Was it like Ariana's case? The dark green jacket she had offered him caught his eyes and realisation hit him like a rock. Her father was long dead. What if…

He had never felt this miserable in his life. Fury and hurt bubbled inside although he knew that in all honesty, he had no right to be furious- she owed him nothing after all. He had barely met her a couple of days ago. If she indeed had someone special in her life, it wasn't her fault that he had fallen for her. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely this person was gravely ill and despite all the risk his presence posed, she had been thoroughly professional, healing and caring for him. He was the one who had misread all the signs. Wishful longing or perhaps a deep, unacknowledged sense of loneliness had been the culprit. Whatever the case may be, it wasn't her fault.

"Rotten luck, mate," he chuckled bitterly to himself.

Ron rolled the Extendable Ear back and, pocketing it, pulled out the parchment again. All he needed to do now was find out if she knew anything at all about Albert's involvement. And then he could get out of this house and get back to business. Life would be just as he was used to anyway- fights, raids, stakeouts, drinks, and at the end of it, going back to his old room at Grimmauld Place. Alone.

"Focus, focus," he muttered to himself in the silence of the room. "Get the job done and get out, yeah," he sighed, ignoring the dull ache in his chest.

Ron dropped the parchment on the bed and began rolling his wand between his fingers out of habit. Looking around the room he had been occupying for the past few days, he was intrigued by the glass-cased shelves and moved closer to get a better look. He grabbed the handle on one and pulled. Dusty, old and neglected, the hinges of the wooden doors seemed to have rusted shut. He peered through the glass panel, pondering whether he could unlocking them by magic, but he hesitated. All he could figure was that they held only books, but he could barely make out the titles on the spines through the foggy glass. He might have known nothing of Hermione Granger but he had been in her year at school. Everyone knew how brilliant she was and how she was never seen without at least two huge volumes, even when they sat for their meals. It wasn't possible for this room to be their only study. Additionally, there  _had_  to be a functioning Potions lab.

The more he pondered over it the less likely it seemed that she had any involvement in the illegal drug racket. She had enough problems of her own to be mixed up in an illegal mess that would risk exposing her in-house patient. However, he still needed to find out if she was brewing illegal potions, even if it was only for medicinal purposes. Alice's presence in the black market would have brought them on the radar of these dark wizards. Perhaps Albert was the one brewing potions for them, he wondered. She was still holding on to her secrets without realising how Albert's death, Carlie's disappearance, and their close friendship with the deceased Potion master was endangering their safety. Realising he was still standing facing the locked bookshelves, he turned around, mind still working furiously to undo the knots. He could do nothing to keep them safe unless they confessed what exactly was going on at their end, how deep they were into these black market trades. Were they in touch with this gang? If the Auror department had followed her because she was Albert's Healer, wouldn't those bastards try to get to her, too- if only to find out if Albert had confided in her before his death?

 _Fuck._  He exhaled soundly, absentmindedly scratching his lightly stubbled jaw. Now it seemed she could be in more danger than they had initially assumed. With his blasted leg injury restricting his movements, how would he guard all three of them?

A tingling sensation brought his mind out of his musings and he realised with horror that a black spider, almost the size of a butterbeer bottle cap, was crawling on his arm.

He shook his arm vigorously while he swore aloud, regretting it immediately as it fell off his arm onto the floor. It was probably crawling on the old, ragged carpet now and gathering troops to attack him. He stamped around, pointing his wand light on the floor, ignoring the searing pain in his leg.

"Die die die you fucker!" he gasped, crushing the bug under his boots, his skin crawling uncomfortably as he imagined it letting out squishy sounds while being trampled to death.

And then he felt it- something was crawling on his back under his t-shirt…

…..

"You're sure?" asked Alice as she watched Hermione pick the vial from their father's potion cabinet.

"Do we have any other option?" replied Hermione as she closed the cabinet door shut.

Alice could see her sister's hand shaking a bit. "No," she answered regretfully.

Life wasn't fair; Hermione deserved to be happy. Although she was the one who had suggested Hermione heal the Auror and send him off, Alice hated that it had to be this way. It was their only option, after all, they had spent years guarding their secret. But it came at the huge cost of seeing Hermione give up on her dreams yet again. Alice had seen how Auror Weasley looked at her little sister and it warmed her heart. She had David; Hermione had no one. Hermione had never allowed anyone to see her vulnerable side, but Ron had managed to break that shield. Alice knew her sister well enough. Stubborn and proud, Hermione would never allow anyone to get that close again.

"Hermione, wait, maybe…"

"There is no scope for a 'maybe', Alice," Hermione responded a little rudely before she looked into Alice's eye. "Please don't make it harder for me than it already is," she pleaded. Alice sighed and turned away as Hermione left the room in a rush. It wasn't easy seeing your sister give up her only chance at a better life.

…...

"Oh!"

All the air in her lungs escaped while blood rushed to her face.

She had not bothered to knock and now Hermione stood at the door, pleasantly flustered at the sight before her. Not just her body but her otherwise brilliant brain blanked out completely while her eyes took in the sight before her. As a healer, she was quite used to seeing people in various stages of undress, but never had her body reacted this way- never did her legs turn to jelly and she had definitely never gawked at anyone's bareback. But Ron wasn't just anyone…

She had not yet had her fill of taking in those broad shoulders, or that expanse of pale and incredibly freckled skin marked as she could see with many scratches and scars. Horrified she realised that she'd love for him to turn around…

"Hermione? Is that you?" he asked in a strange voice, standing unnaturally still.

"Ye-yes," she managed.

"Thank Merlin!" he gasped. "Quick! Please! I think there is a spider on my back!"

"Oh, alright." She took a quick few strides after she dropped the vial on his bedside table. Her breath came in gasps and she tried her best to appear unfazed as she stood behind him. She could think of no reason why an Auror like him would be scared of a spider, but she didn't voice her surprise. Instead, she placed a hand on his back hesitantly, pointing her wand light at it.

Ron seemed to stiffen for a moment at her touch and his voice was low and rugged when he spoke. "Can you see it?" he asked quietly.

She could see a hundred freckles pepper his skin and scars that appeared like vines ran from his wrists to his shoulders. She wanted to ask about them but he fidgeted and she concentrated on the task at hand.

"I can't find… oh, wait…"

She chuckled and picked up the culprit, a small ladybug, on her fingertip and moved to stand in front of him.

"Here's your 'vicious spider', Au-" The rest of the words died on her lips. Her lit wand was now pointing at his chest and she almost forgot to breathe for a minute. His hair was in a right state, perhaps because he had removed his clothes in a hurry, a light copper stubble graced his defined jaws while those brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the light, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes lingered on his throat and his muscular chest taking in the slight peppering of ginger hair that ran down the centre, paving its way through more freckles and scars to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

She could almost hear the loud thudding of her heart in the silence, and couldn't remember why she was in his room at all.

Feeling his gaze on her, she looked away hurriedly. Ron mumbled an apology and she heard him scrambling to get into his clothes.

"Not a spider, just a ladybug." she chuckled nervously. It was useless to pretend his shirtless form had not affected her. She was sure he had seen her blush furiously.

"Mum used to say we could wish on those buggers," he added as he turned to her, she assumed in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence.

"You want to give it a try?" she asked. Normally she didn't believe in wishes or destiny, but suddenly she found herself willing to believe in anything that could keep him with her a little longer.

"What should I wish for?" he asked softly. Hermione noticed they were standing way too close, watching the small insect crawl on her palm. She looked up and caught his eyes, blue orbs meeting hers… No one had ever looked at her that way; there was something utterly tender in those hard features. It was as if the silence was speaking a hundred words, each one of those fulfilling her secret desires.

He lifted his hand and picked up the ladybug on his index finger, her skin tingling at the briefest touch, and she pulled away her hand quickly. She was here to send him away, she reminded herself weakly. Wishing on a ladybug wouldn't change her destiny- if there was anything of the sort in the first place.

"Wish on getting out of this godforsaken place?" she replied. Realising a moment too late how much sadness her words held, she added in a forced chuckle, "That's what you want most at the moment, don't you?"

His eyes roved over her face, pausing an extra second on her lips before he met her eyes again. Smiling, which looked a tad bit sad, he looked away and blew on the ladybug.

Hermione took a couple of steps back. It was way too telling what he had wished for and it scared her in a strange way. She had never dared to dream, but Ron was bringing to the fore all that she wanted, all that she couldn't have. His presence was threatening to break her resolve. She couldn't afford that. And she wasn't being fair, to him or herself.

"We need to heal you," she stuttered, turning away from him. Fingers that desperately wanted to hold his hand ran through her curls to hide her nervousness.

"Alright," he replied and sat down, ripping his jeans to his knees.

Her hand shook as she picked the vial. She turned around to find him watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.

…

He'd never forget her.

From now, life would just be a million times worse, knowing that he'd finally found the one for him only to lose her without even being able to confess his feelings. She'd be a part of every dream, every wishful longing. She hesitated for a second before she poured exactly two drops over his wounds, and Ron instinctively realised it was the close of their chapter forever. He'd be healed, he wouldn't need any more potions, he wouldn't need was sending him away.

He watched her as she pretended to check his wounds. He knew she could feel his eyes on her, but unlike before, there was no sharp retort. Perhaps she was allowing him this last glimpse. Why though? Why the favour? Why pretend the prospect of his leaving was hurting her just as much?

"There you go," she said finally. Though she smiled, her eyes spoke differently and Ron found himself hoping against hope. What if the person was someone else… "The ladybug granted your wish," she added, looking away and busily corking the vial.

He looked at his leg where the angry red boils were cooling. Not only was the sensation back, the pain seemed to ebb as well. The smallest of the wounds were closing, leaving behind clean, unmarked skin.

"Fit to leave, aren't I?" he inquired.

"As your Healer, I'll suggest waiting for half an hour, and then you'll be free."

"Free," he repeated with a bitter chuckle. He proceeded to repair his jeans and looked at her. She was sitting next to him on the bed, closer than she had ever done before. However, the moment she felt his eyes on her she made to get up.

"Will I be able to Apparate now?" he asked, knowing her response already. Every second spent in her presence was adding to his regret. It seemed all his realisations had culminated in this moment, bombarding his senses with feelings he had been fighting and trying to reason away. Now that he no longer had a reason to stay, he knew he was losing what he had craved all his life.

"Yes," she said quietly and remained seated.

"So I'm all better and… don't need any more treatment?"

"You don't need me anymore," she replied, and he continued to look her in the eyes until she looked away. She had no right to hurt him this way.

"If this potion is so effective, why did you make me stay here for three days? You could have sent me packing the first night I landed on your doorstep."

"It-It wouldn't work right away."

He could tell she was lying. She had let him stay because she wanted to. Ron didn't mind all the pain he had to bear the past three days. What was an injured leg? He could go through so much worse to be with her- if only she gave him one chance to prove himself. He gazed at the girl who had finally stolen his heart, crazy curls tied in a rough bun and shorter locks framing her face, hiding her from his eyes as she continued to sit next to him. Never before did she stay in his vicinity unless she was treating him, having meals or talking about the case, in other words, unless absolutely necessary. Why did he sense that she felt the same, and if so, why in the bloody blazes was she doing this to both of them? Suddenly he realised he  _had_  to know what was holding her back or rather who was.

Ron reckoned he was meant to be here. He had sucked at Divination but some things were preordained, weren't they? Like the fact that he was meant to find her, meant to be hers.

She turned slightly and placed her palm on his, surprising him. Her touch felt familiar like he had known her forever, like he had finally found home after a long, arduous journey. "Stay safe, Ron...I know your job is not the easiest but please try not to get hurt..."

"Really, why do you care, Hermione?" he asked, desperation and longing making his words bitter.

She kept quiet, and he removed his palm from under hers lest he pulled her into his arms.

"I-" she began and sucked in a breath as if catching her words at the last minute, while still avoiding looking at him. "I'm sure there are people waiting for you back home. That should be a good enough reason, shouldn't it?"

"I wish there was  _someone_  waiting for me, yeah, but..." he sighed and picked himself up from the bed and began to pace. She was hurting him by staying longer while she was pushing him away at the same time. The irony was that he didn't want her to leave either; it was very messed up and it hurt more than he had ever assumed it would.

He glanced around to note that she was still sitting, her head bent low, picking lint off the bed sheet. If she really wanted him to leave, if she truly felt nothing, she'd have left already, she'd be her professional self; Hermione was good at that. But the girl in front of him wasn't just his Healer. She was more and yet-

He needed to know why she was doing it, why she was hurting herself. All she needed to do was tell him she didn't want him and he'd adhere to her wishes, no matter how much it hurt. But it was clear she was being pressured and he needed to know why. He needed to know what or who was coming between them.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione," he announced and she looked up bewildered. A couple of tears she seemed to have been holding back rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them off hastily on her sleeve, averting his eyes.

"You've got to go. You are healed, there is no reason for you to stay here any longer," she stated, firmly.

Infuriated, he ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Seriously, Hermione? You still want to play this game?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ron." Finally, she picked herself up and grabbed the vial sitting on the bed, pocketing it.

"Fine, let's do this your way then," he fumed and turned around to push the door shut, locking her inside with him.

"What do you think you are doing?" she scowled as she looked at him blocking her way out.

"As an Auror, I'm using my right to stay on your property in order to guard you and the rest of the inmates of this house from miscreants who, we suspect, might try to harm or kidnap you. Happy, Miss Granger?"

"You are making all this up," she stated through gritted teeth as his eyes bore into hers. Her gaze moved over his face and she turned away abruptly. "Ron, just-just go!" she cried. "Please stop making this so hard for me..." she added in a softer, sadder voice.

He grabbed her upper arm to turn her around. He was bloody tired of this game. "Do you think you're making this any easier for me, Hermione?"

"Go, please!" she begged even as her eyes pooled again, and this time it seemed she didn't bother to hide her tears. "My life is complicated enough without you making it worse."

He placed a palm on her face, swiping the tear traces off with his thumb, pulling her slightly closer. Fuck, what could he do to convince her that all he needed was one chance to prove that he'd do anything for her? It made no sense but he simply knew he could trust her with his life. His instincts were usually never wrong.

"I want to help you," he whispered, cupping her face with both palms. "Please, allow me to?"

"You can't," she replied, hiccuping with the effort she was putting into holding back her tears.

"Try me," he urged.

She let out a sound of hopelessness or impatience, he couldn't tell which, but pushed his hands away from her face. "Leave, okay? Just go, Ron!" she yelled, and shoved his much larger frame away, unlocking the door and rushing out.

….

Ron had no right to do this. And she had no right to show him her weakness.

Hermione rushed towards the staircase, ignoring the steady stream of tears. She hated how he had barged into her home and disrupted everything, even to the extent of tearing down the walls she had built around herself- without much effort either. She hated that he had unleashed the girl in her who wanted to live, to love, one who wanted to be cared for. She hated his meddlesome ways, his hot head and his constant bickering- she hated everything, she told herself, but most of all she hated that she had shown him her vulnerable side and he wasn't repulsed. He wanted to stay and help and trust her. He didn't know she never had anyone she could confide her feelings to apart from Alice, but for reasons she couldn't fathom, she wanted to confide in him with her secret.

"Hermione, wait!"

She paused mid-step to turn around and there he was, walking purposefully towards her, his long strides doing away with the distance between them. She hastened, taking two steps at a time, but he was faster. For a brief minute, she hated having healed him.

He crossed her and stopped a couple of steps ahead of her. Exasperated, she pulled whatever little strength she had to draw her wand on him.

"Auror, you are not supposed to be here," she threatened, breathing heavily. Ron didn't bother to draw his wand but stood calmly with his hands held in surrender.

"You are one stubborn woman, Hermione," he chuckled, and she hated the way her heart melted at that smile.

"I'm not joking, Auror. Go downstairs or I'll be forced to hurt you."

"Go ahead, I know this amazing healer who'll make me as good and new."

"Ron, this is no joke!" she fumed, gritting her teeth and stomping in frustration.

"Exactly, Hermione, it's bloody painful alright?" he snapped back. He stepped down and placed his hand over her wand-arm and lowered it. She shook with helplessness.

"Stop doing this to yourself," he urged as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and thumb, stroking the sensitive spot over her nerves.

She laughed derisively at his words, snatching her hand away. "You are the one who is doing this to me, Ron! What right do you have to force your way into my life?!"

"None, none at all," he agreed, "But you have no right to do this to me either."

"You are joking, right?"

"I swear I'm not," he replied, looking flustered and anguished, "You tell me I'm not wanted, but why do your eyes tell me otherwise?" She looked away but he continued. "I promise I won't bother you if you really don't want me." He sounded so sincere that she couldn't help but met his eyes again and regretted it immediately as her resolve weakened further. "But you can't- you can't make me feel that you've felt the same while you push me away. Gimme a fucking reason at least!" He grabbed her hand at her wrists and looked at them while she watched, her heart breaking at his anguish. Who knew the tall and fierce Auror had so much tenderness in him? Why couldn't she have him?

"Is there someone else, Hermione?" he asked quietly, and her breath hitched.

She couldn't tell him the truth. "Yes, there is," she replied, noting how the colour seem to drain from his features. He removed his hand from hers immediately and sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Right, okay, okay then," he exhaled, looking away. "Fine," he said a few moments later, regret and weariness etched on his handsome features. He even tried smiling a bit, and Hermione hated her life a little more.

"So you are ready to leave?" she asked. Suddenly she could feel nothing more than numbness encompass her. She was exhausted. Hiding her feelings was a part of her life, she wasn't used to facing them out loud.

"I can't, Healer. Wasn't lying, you guys really are in danger."

"What are you talking about?"

"Carlie's been kidnapped."

Hermione let out a gasp, her eyes pooling instantly, "No..." she whispered, turning around to rest herself against the rails. "Why?" she asked weakly.

"We don't know, but we are guessing she knew something about Albert's involve-"

"Albert was NOT involved in a drug racket with dark wizards!" she screeched, "Why don't you believe me?"

"I would if you told me the truth!"

Her lips quivered as she sat down on the stairs, shaking slightly. Hermione pulled her knees to her body, wrapped her arms around them and hid her face as she sobbed. Ron watched on helplessly. After a minute of hesitation, he sat down next to her leaving substantial space between them.

"I'll be honest with you," he began, "when I arrived, I had the suspicion that you were involved in his murder." Hermione tilted her head slightly to look at him She didn't seem enraged but definitely hurt. He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her by fidgeting with his wand. "I can see he meant a lot to you, and hence our theory doesn't hold. But he was in some deep shite, Hermione," he explained. "And now with Carlie's kidnapping, things just got worse. I'm not kidding, I swear! These bastards- they've a dangerous mission planned and won't stop until they get there."

"What do they want?" she asked, and Ron exhaled. He was really screwing up his mission, breaking all protocols.

"They're improvising the Polyjuice potion," he told her. "If they perfect it the way they want, the drinker will be able to transform into the victim for as long as they want, providing they don't take the antidote. It means-"

"-they won't need to keep the victim alive or drink the potion frequently," she gasped, and he nodded grimly.

He ran his fingers through his hair, "It'll be bloody insane. Ministry infiltration will be a piece of cake and that's what, we assume, they're aiming for. My department is stretched to its limit guarding the Department Heads and Potioneers we think could be the targets, not to mention other important people. But it won't stop there. It'll be chaos, we won't be able to trust anyone."

"But why me? I'm neither a Potioneer nor an important dignitary."

Ron watched her, anguish and confusion marring her pretty features. "You are Potioneer Granger's daughter. And, we assume, you both might have been on their radar because of all the black market trade you've been doing for years."

He did try softening the blow by keeping his voice calm but she gasped aloud and turned towards the top of the stairs on instinct before looking at him, terrified. It was far too telling that whatever was happening in this house was illegal on some level- he had years of experience dealing with hardened criminals, and as much as he hated to count her with the lot, he knew guilt and fear when he saw it.

Ron was torn between all that he knew was right and all that he wanted to believe. She made matters worse by standing promptly and trying to get away. He grabbed her hand, tightening his fingers around her small wrist.

"What are you guys up to, Hermione? What are you doing in this house?" he asked as calmly as he possibly could, dreading what he would find.

"None of your business!" she screeched, wrestling to get away from his grip. He didn't loosen his hold but stood up, noticing how he towered over her.

"I have the right to know. How bad is it?" he asked, breathing deeply, praying vehemently that he was mistaken. How could his instincts fail him so? After all he had done to trust her, too. Still gripping her wrist he began climbing the stairs, pulling her along but not as roughly as he would have under the circumstances.

Hermione, who had left her wand at the steps, struggled with each step he took but he moved ahead. The stairway ended in a long corridor with rooms on both sides. The doors to all were shut.

"Let me go, Ron! You are not allowed!" she cried, tears falling freely, but he didn't stop, telling himself that he was an Auror first. Perhaps that wasn't all - a fair part of him wanted to know who was the one in that room. She had practically told him that whoever this person was, he was the one in her life. Morbid curiosity was dangerous, but he had to know how all the other things tied up together, didn't he? There had to be some link.

Suddenly when they were at the second-to-last door, Hermione stopped struggling, allowing him to pull her as he wished. He paused and stared at the nondescriptive door.

"Fine," she said, looking as if all the fight had left her. "Open the door and you'll get all your answers and then, you can arrest me," she added staring at the carpet. When she touched his hand that was holding her wrist, he let go. Suddenly he wished he hadn't taken up this mission, he wished he'd been oblivious to her existence and whatever she had hidden in this room.

"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself quietly before grabbing the knob and turning it, shocked to find it unlocked. Perhaps she never expected anyone up here? The door opened with an old creaking noise and he heard scampering before Alice emerged holding her wand aloft.

"RON?! What are-" she noticed Hermione standing behind him and tried closing the door but Ron held it open.

"Hermione! He-"

"Let him see, Alice," she replied from behind him in an emotionless voice before she turned away. "I'll be in my room, Auror. You can arrest me once you've found all that you want to know."

….

Ron had a vague guess after overhearing Alice and Hermione's conversation, but he still gaped, looking between Alice and the bed upon which a very frail person lay. An assortment of vials, strange devices and pipes interconnected with each other, disappearing under the blanket that covered the person from foot to chest.

"Hermione's mother," answered Alice tiredly, as she collapsed on the chair next to the bed. "She's- she's a muggle."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n And there you are! You all know how much I'll appreciate a review, won't you?


	10. Day 3 and into Day 4- The rise and fall of the protective wards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a ton to one of my favourite people in the world and an amazing beta @idearlylovealaugh for going through this monster chapter and making it so much better. Co-creator credits to @jenn582 for letting me adopt her plot baby.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her heart felt heavy. Grief, guilt, anger and disappointment- all directed at herself- caged her in their folds, causing physical agony that left her gasping for air. Hermione had broken her promise. Tonight, she had not only failed as a daughter, but as a Healer as well.

She pulled her knees close to her body, wrapping her arms around them, shaking slightly while looking at the cream coloured wall straight ahead. The hard wood of the headboard hurt her back but she paid no heed to it as she swayed, berating herself, her brain running through the upteen number of disatrous outcomes her carelessness might have caused. Despite being aware of the consequences of getting attached, she had fallen into the trap, and now everything they had been guarding for all these years would be lost- all because she couldn't rein in her heart and her emotions.

The knock on the door was short and sharp, and she glanced at the wood, all thoughts ceasing momentarily- this was the end of the road, for everything. Why had she fooled herself into believing that life would bestow upon her something beautiful, something that did not entail pain and loneliness?

"Hermione?"

His voice was composed, and she bit back the pain along with the tears that pooled in her eyes.

It took her a while to find her voice and reply. "Please come in, Auror…"

The door opened with a soft click and Hermione turned away, finding it hard to look at him. She realised that she didn't want to see the pity in his eyes- after all, he had to do what he had to do.

The bed creaked and she felt the mattress sink a little under his weight; heard the soft sigh that escaped his lips.

"Do you have to arrest me right away?" she asked in a small voice, still looking away. Through the window on the left she could see the sun setting in the far horizon; the sky was coloured in vivid colours and the birds flew in flocks, returning home after a long day. She briefly wondered if they were as tired as she was.

"Look at me?"

There was something in his voice- Hermione couldn't exactly decide what- but he sounded so tired and helpless himself that she turned her head and caught him watching her intently.

The setting sun glinted off his pale features and that bright red hair, and for a few blissful minutes, she was lost in those eyes.

"I-" he began and the spell broke. She straightened herself, unwrapping her arms from around her knees and lowering her legs while still resting her back against the hard headboard.

Ron exhaled tiredly, and she noticed he was looking at her hands that rested on her lap. He seemed to debate for a second before he turned, folding one leg under himself while the other rested on the floor, facing her properly. A couple of tears escaped her as he tugged on her arms, taking her palms in his large ones and rubbing the back of them with his thumb.

"Help me understand? Please?"

"What's the point?" she asked bitterly. "Why don't you just do your job and arrest me?"

"Because you are not just an assignment for me-" She met his eyes and the determination and tenderness in them made her weak. She berated herself for it- her emotions had landed them in a fine mess already, she simply couldn't make the same mistake again…

She began speaking before she realised. Years worth of secrets spilled out, free flowing like a dam that had been left shut for decades and was filled way beyond its capacity.

"She was his life..." she began abruptly, looking him in the eye, pleading with him quietly to understand. Hermione wasn't sure why it felt extremely important that she gave him her reasons, the truth in its entirety. It was a little worrying perhaps that she was not concerned if the Wizagamont would consider her reasons justified or send her to Azkaban. However, Ron was a different story. She needed for  _him_  to understand.

"We were happy, you know?" she managed with a chuckle so sad that his grip on her hand tightened for a moment. "Our small family of four. Dad taught me and Alice all about potions and Mum taught us the Muggle things." She smiled at the memory. It seemed like just yesterday and at the same time felt like a lifetime ago. "I was seven at the time. It was the summer of that year when we left for the ill-fated trip to France. With Mum being a muggle and Alice and I being underaged, we had to travel the Muggle way. Perhaps she was sick before, and had long hidden it from us?" she mused aloud. "She had that habit- would fuss about us and hide anything bothering her, till it turned ugly as it did at that time. I was too young to remember the whole of it, but I remember how sickly she slowly became, growing paler and weaker over the days."

They spoke of it often, and both Hermione and Alice seemed to only remember how they had to cut their vacation short after their mother fell sick at the breakfast table one morning and had to be rushed to the hospital. For the next two days, she and Alice were left alone in the hotel while their father went away with their mother. The third night, both girls woke up at the sound of sobbing. Hermione remembered it a little too well. The two sisters had tiptoed in their socks towards their parents' bedroom, sharing worried glances with each other, knowing well they were being naughty by eavesdropping but unable to resist it all the same- after all, they had never heard their father cry before.

It was a memory she could never forget. Through the slight gap in the door at which the girls knelt, they could make out the familiar shapes. Mum was sitting in that enormous chair that seemed to swallow her and Dad was at her feet, his head resting on her lap. The moment was so tender and private that the girls looked away after a glimpse, eyeing each other as they scooted behind the door before making their way back to their room.

They returned to England the very next day. For months afterwards, they would often be left alone with an old nanny as their father took her to all the Muggle hospitals he could afford. They would return more haggard than before- Mother growing frailer as the days passed, Father seemingly ageing faster with each passing week. The answers were always the same. They could ease the pain- but she had precious few months left and they could do nothing about it.

"He wasn't ready to accept it," she told him, bleakly registering that they'd moved closer somehow. Her knee was touching his, his fingers that had been making soothing circles on her palm were now encasing her fingers between them. "So he-he decided to use the last resort. Magic."

She looked up into his eyes, searching for some sort of reaction. But he merely nodded a little, urging her to continue.

"He was just trying to save her, I swear," she pleaded, choking on her words. "He knew it was illegal, subjecting a muggle to magical potions and spells. She wasn't suffering from a magical ailment or curse and there was no way he could ever justify his actions to the Wizegamont. It was almost as if he were conducting an experiment- with her as the subject."

" Hence the precautions…" he mused aloud, and she nodded quietly.

"He wasn't worried about himself. He always said he'd happily spend the rest of his days in Azkaban once she recovered."

"But he..?"

"He passed away before that happened." She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her jumper.

"But she-your Mum, I mean, she's better now, isn't she?"

She let out a dry chuckle. "She has spent the past eighteen years confined to that bed."

"So she lived, but barely?" he asked haltingly.

"Yes, Dad could prevent her imminent death with his potions and even managed to trigger her body to defend itself. But something went wrong somewhere. I guess her muggle genes weren't able to adapt to the magical invasions. It began to affect her mobility and a time came when she could no longer lift herself from the bed."

They sat quiet for a while before he spoke again. "How did you manage, y'know, after he- after him?"

Hermione stiffened. She kept the memories of the summer after fifth year locked, even from herself. They had the power to pull her down a spiral of doom, and it would take every bit of her last remaining strength to pull herself back. Under the present circumstances, she was worried she wouldn't be able to surface at all.

"It's okay," he said, and she met his eyes. "You don't have to go through the pain of remembering it. I don't think I can grasp how difficult it must've been for you, but…" he exhaled and looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I've lost a brother, so I kinda know… not as much as you do but…"

She bit her lip to cut the sob that almost escaped but the tears fell freely before his hand slowly disentangled from her fingers to cup her face.

"You've been through so much...Merlin… you are so bloody brave, Hermione…" he whispered.

She didn't know who initiated it, but suddenly she was in his arms, her face pressed into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

It had been years, almost a lifetime since she had felt so safe. For the first time in ages, it seemed as if the burden she had been carrying for the last ten years lightened and she could breathe. She sobbed like she had never before. Not even after her father died in that freak accident in the lab. Not even when she had stood in the village cemetery with Albert and Alice in the pouring rain - the moment she was left with the weight of the world and no one to turn to, no shoulder to cry on.

Much later when her tears were in control, she moved away slightly and noticed that her arms had been wrapped around him. A damp patch was clearly visible on his jumper. She scooted out of his arms unwillingly while he simply sat there, not asking or probing, just being there for her.

"You must be wondering where Albert fits in the picture, aren't you?" she asked and he nodded a little.

"I am, but if it's too much for you for tonight, I can wait."

She looked at him, realising and accepting the fact that this man who had barged- or rather limped- his way into her home had managed to do the unthinkable- find a way into her heart.

"He was his assistant and student. Exceptionally brilliant, but," she sighed, "an extremely poor orphan. Dad took him under his wing and groomed him. Paid for his university education. He was the only one who came close to Dad in terms of his Potions skills."

She noticed Ron listening and quietly contemplating.

"He had some great job offers. But Albert remained working with Dad and then started his own lab."

Ron's face was still stoic and she grew impatient.

"He risked his future to help us after Dad passed away. He was the only one who kept Mum alive so many years. Ron… please believe me… he can't be your guy! His morals are…  _were_  too high…"

Ron slowly pried his hands away and Hermione was shocked to realise how empty she suddenly felt. He rose up, his tall frame towering over her for a minute before he moved away and lit the candles.

The familiar old room lit up, boring and bleak as ever, but now there was a figure spreading his aura over everything- including her. Everything felt different- the good kind of different. As much as she was scared to read more into it and hurt herself, she couldn't ignore how his presence brought hope to her world.

Two long strides were all that it took and all of a sudden, he was right next to her.

"I-" he began and then exhaled through his mouth and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want to believe you, about Albert, but everything we know proves otherwise, Hermione,"

She gulped hard and stood up. "He would never be involved with an illegal racket!"

"Hermione… listen," he said, grabbing her at the shoulders. "He had to have immense contacts in Knockturn Alley to get those restricted substances for your Mum. What if… y'know… he got tired and wanted some extra cash?"

"He would never!" she screeched indignantly. Why couldn't Ron understand? Alice and Albert were the only family she had. While neither of them was related to her by blood, both had done as much as her own siblings would have. It's what made her feel all the more guilty. Alice was supposed to have a better life and not spend it all caring for Hermione's sick mother. And Albert too- her father had brought him along to give him a better life and the opportunities his previous circumstances had not provided him. But Albert had taken it upon himself to risk his career and future only to ensure Hermione's Mum got her regular medication. How could a man like him be a drug dealer?!

"Come with me!" she called and before he could respond, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of her room. Down the hall they went, far to the right and into the room she and Alice had guarded with their life.

She pushed open the wooden door and flicked her wand once, lighting all the candles.

"You see this?" she asked, choking back a sob. They never lit all the candles at once anymore. The memories of the good times were too many to count, much too painful to deal with. "See that table there?" She pointed to her left at the large desk that housed their notes- volumes and volumes of bound, handwritten parchments. "Half the stuff here is his, potions that could make him famous, buy him the best luxuries one could want- but he chose to let them be hidden, for the sake of the man who gave him a chance at a respectable life, for my Mum, for us. Do you still think this very man would get into an illegal drug trade, Auror?"

The light glinted off the numerous vials. The cauldron bubbling in the far corner of the room let out the familiar hissing sound and Hermione checked her watch. Three more hours and it had to be stirred four times counter-clockwise.

Ron, she noticed, was taking in the surroundings, his eyes in slits, brows furrowed. He moved from one edge of the room to the other, reading the labels on the vials, his stance getting stiffer by the minute.

At last he stopped near the large desk and picked up one brown, leather bound diary. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest. What on earth was she doing showing him this room? Now he had all the proof he needed to arrest her and prove that Albert was deeply involved in the black market trade. There were just so many ingredients they needed for the medicines that were on the restricted list!

"I-" she began but he stopped her with a gesture of his hand.

"Your father wrote this?" he asked, waving the leatherbound diary at her. She walked towards him slowly and took it. They had four of these.

"This is Albert's. We kept making notes in addition to Dad's."

Ron grabbed it again and flipped through the pages. She could sense he was onto something and her anxiety peaked.

"Why are all the pages blotchy?" he asked, pointing to the ink smudges. She relaxed.

"He couldn't help it. He wrote too fast. The ink never dried quick enough for him," she explained. "The ink from his palms always transferred onto the paper. It used to irk him so much," she added, smiling at the memory before the tears sprang up again.

"Why would-" began Ron and then he gasped. " _He was left-handed?!_ "

"Yes?"

"And which was his wand hand?" he asked urgently. She could literally see him shaking but couldn't figure out why.

"Why, left, of course!"

"Merlin's saggy left…" he gasped, running his fingers through his hair.

"Ron?"

"Go to your room and stay there. But first, tell Alice to stay with your Mum, and both of you add more protections to the doors. I'll meet you in your room, three knocks and a secret question," he instructed hurriedly as he almost dragged her out of the lab, sealing it shut behind him.

"Wait! Tell me what it is about!" she screamed as he rushed towards the staircase.

He stopped mid step and turned around.

"The guy who escaped from the lab was definitely right-handed, Hermione."

"So Albert-"

"-is most likely alive and that's why they kidnapped his wife. To blackmail him," he furnished.

….

"But how? I was the one treating him. And he didn't have any polyjuice on him when we admitted him."

"You forgot what they are experimenting on," he provided solemnly.

Hermione sucked in a breath, and while he continued to pace in the room he noticed she had recoiled on the bed.

"So they've perfected it?" she asked after a while. He stopped pacing to walk up to where she sat and collapsed at the far end of the bed, a little away from her.

"We aren't sure but we think they haven't managed to get it right yet," he exhaled exhaustedly as he flicked his wand between his fingers, staring unseeing at the threadbare carpet under his feet. "Albert might not have caved - that could explain Carlie's kidnapping."

"Haven't you got the autopsy report yet?" she inquired.

"Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary. But now that we know he wasn't Albert, they are gonna check again."

"If you can find his real identity, it might help."

"Yeah," he replied before turning to his right to look at her. It was almost midnight. They had managed to grab a bite, after which Alice had returned to Hermione's mother's room for the night. Ron had added special wards to property, over and above what was already there.

"You needed some stuff for her potions, didn't you?" he asked. She nodded a little, and bit her lip before looking away.

"We did- do in fact, but in the light of recent events I can't possibly send Alice to Knockturn Alley."

"No, that'll be too dangerous," he agreed, bleakly registering the whistling of air through the gaps in the window panes. Most likely it was going to pour again.

"I could fetch them for you," he added softly and her eyes snapped up to meet his.

"I -I can't possibly ask you to…"

"Do you need them urgently or not?"

"We do, but…"

"Alright, make me a list and I'll figure out how."

She watched him for a few precious minutes before she picked herself up from the bed and made to move out.

"I am sorry, Auror, I can't accept that… You shouldn't risk your career for our sake."

"You barmy or something, Hermione?" he gaped. "You need those to keep your Mum alive!"

"I know, okay?" she snapped, whirling around to face him. "But do you realise we need them every month? These and many others? Albert and Alice have been stuck in this mess for years! Dad promised them a better life, not _this_!" She threw her hands up exasperatedly, voice heavy with emotions. "Do you realise how guilty I feel?" she added after a bit, looking away. "I don't want you to be in the same boat as they are, smuggling illegal ingredients, jeopardizing your life and career for something that's only my responsibility!"

"It's okay Hermione, I'm an Auror. We confiscate a lot of illegal stuff as a part of our job, I can-"

"- you can what, Ron? Nick some of it for me? And that would be completely lawful? Don't be ridiculous!" she cried before walking away to the window, opening it out a smidge and pulling it back immediately as the gale forced its way in and rattled the old shelves in the study. But the latch, once opened, wouldn't shut and Hermione struggled while the chilly wind blew in, bringing raindrops along with it.

Her stubbornness getting to his nerves, Ron rose up and walked briskly to her. Grabbing the rusted old latches by placing his fingers over hers he pulled them shut with a jerk. Suddenly the room was quiet and he noticed he was standing right behind her, her arms encased in his. She felt small and fragile next to him and he barely held back from pulling her deeper into his embrace. He dropped his hands to his side and took a step back.

"You need to stop pushing people away," he said quietly, "especially those who want to be there for you."

She turned towards him; the tiny space between them reduced further and Ron drew in a steadying breath before scratching the back of his neck out of habit. With all his doubts about her put to rest, he could no longer justify not falling in love with her.

She met his eyes for an infinitesimal amount of time before moving away to take her space on the bed. "Is the Auror department any closer to cracking this case?" she asked.

"A team went back to Albert's place a while ago. They're trying to find clues about the imposter."

"Why are you still here?" she asked, looking away. It was hard to decipher the emotions behind those words and he couldn't help feeling a little hurt.

He had a valid, official reason to justify his presence in her house, but for Ron, there was more than the security aspect of it. He couldn't decide if he could tell her- but she ought to have guessed it by now. "You know why," he responded.

"I do, I just don't understand why," she replied.

"It's simple, isn't It?" he asked as he took a seat on the bed again and angled his head a little to the right to watch her. "Their kid is under protection. If Albert doesn't break, you'll be the next target."

A flicker of fear appeared on her face before she composed herself. "Why would they do that? There are so many renowned Potioneers out there. Don't you think you should be guarding them right now?"

"We've added security for all the big names. But-" he looked away briefly, wondering if it was right to scare her with the truth. But then, she needed to know the facts. "- you'll be an easy target. Not skill-wise," he added quickly, "but because you are technically not a Potioneer although just as skilled. Plus, kidnapping you will make it easier for them to blackmail both of you since you guys are almost family."

Her features turned grim and she spoke after what he was sure was an intense internal struggle. "What are the chances they'll target Alice and Mum? If they track us, I mean."

He looked at the wand in his hand, mentally scanning for more wards he could place on the property. "These kinda guys are not high on ethics, Hermione."

"So you are positive they'll come for me?"

He gave a curt nod. "If Albert doesn't cave, and we aren't able to track their location soon, they will. Just a matter of time."

"And how close is your team to locating their hideout?"

He exhaled tiredly and scratched his jaw absentmindedly. "Last I heard from Harry, they are still searching for clues."

"Oh."

…..

It was way past midnight, but Hermione couldn't sleep. Eventually, she grabbed her woollen cloak, put on her slippers and made her way out of her room. The house was silent, as always, however as she crossed the corridor she could see the dying fire in the living room below. She hurried her steps in the other direction, moving instead to the room almost at the far end.

A few new spells and the door glowed a bright blue, reminding her of a pair of eyes she was craving to look into. She pushed the yearning away and placed her hand on the doorknob instead. It opened with the softest of clicks. Her mother was sleeping and so was her sister in the adjacent bed. If one overlooked the innumerable medical paraphernalia surrounding her bed, her mother almost looked at peace. But that, Hermione knew well, was only superficial. Her mother spoke little for her body couldn't bear the strain of it, but she never mentioned how much she was hurting. It was as if she was decaying slowly in front of their eyes. The potions had run their course, and the malady they had been fighting against was slowly claiming it's victim. It was excruciatingly painful to watch.

And the worst part was, she had never been that way before. Jean Granger was always full of life. Even when her body started showing signs of damage after the magical treatment, her spirit remained as strong as ever. But ever since their father's death, something in her was lost forever. Sometimes Hermione felt that she no longer wanted to live; it scared the life out of her. Hermione had spent the majority of her twenty-five years trying to realise her father's dream- to see her mother cured. She didn't even know life beyond it. But now, a forbidden thought had found its place in her heart and all the fight she was putting against it was proving ineffective.

She closed the door, redid the charms and found herself walking downstairs.

But Ron wasn't in the living room, or in the study or the bath. With rising panic, she rushed to the kitchen only to find it empty. Crookshanks, who was curled in one of the chairs, leapt up and followed her around. Hermione picked him up in her arms and dashed upstairs. Perhaps he was in the lab again?

But he wasn't and she sprinted back to her room, her panic having returned in full force. Dropping her pet carefully on her bed, she pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it; a beautiful otter burst out, casting its silvery glow in the room. It swirled once before disappearing.

"Please…" she found herself praying as she paced, an unknown fear causing her to shake, and she sat down tentatively on the bed.

Barely a few minutes passed before hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Before Ron could knock, she'd flung it open and hurled herself in his arms. She heard a sharp intake of breath and his familiar fragrance encompassed her, calming her jittery nerves.

"Hey," he called and clasped her upper arms. Mortified at her behaviour, she disentangled herself and took a quick few steps backwards.

"You forgot the security questions."

"Fine, where did I go for my last ever family vacation?"

"France."

She met his eyes before turning away. She didn't need a security question to identify him. "Where were you?" she snapped angrily, anxiety making her words harsher than she intended. "I looked for you everywhere!"

"Sorry, was checking the wards outside."

"You could have told me once before you left!" she argued. Crookshanks, who apparently was trying to take a nap, hissed his displeasure before jumping right off the bed and walking out with his tail flicking behind him. Hermione turned her back towards him as she sat on the bed, relieved to find Ron safe but still reeling with the aftermath of the scare. "I was so worried," she murmured, annoyed both at him and herself.

She turned and found Ron still standing at the door, his back resting against the frame, a strange softness reflecting in his eyes.

"Why are you still standing there?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Oh, I'm sorry… I should, I should go," he mumbled, straightening and rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's … not what I meant…" she replied. "I mean, you could come in." She gasped quietly to herself at her boldness.

"It's way past midnight, Hermione... " he responded softly. "I shouldn't even be here at this hour, let alone inside your bedroom."

His words caused some unfamiliar sensations to run down her spine. But strange though it was, it wasn't unpleasant- quite the opposite in fact. That scared her all the more.

"You can, since I'm asking you to," she said, fisting the sheets for reasons unknown.

He seemed to be struggling and replied after a few minutes during which his eyes never left her face. It made her wish for a lot of things she had never contemplated before.

"Probably it'll be best if I don't." His words were barely a whisper, deeper somehow…

"Even if I want you to?" she asked again, meeting those gorgeous blue eyes before quickly looking away. "Unless of course, you don't want to…"

There was the soft click of the door being shut and Ron was now in her bedroom, still closer to the door than her but some deep instinct told her that was soon to change.

"It's pretty late, you should get some rest," he said, hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

"It's alright, I'm used to sleepless nights," she replied.

Now that he was there on her insistence, she had no clue where they were headed. Ron appeared to be just as conflicted, but he took a couple of steps and pulled a chair for himself, sitting with a little slouch as he watched her. Hermione noticed that she was still wearing her unflattering woollen cloak over her boring white pyjamas. She was not even comfortable in social settings on a normal day, and their current predicament was a far cry from anything normal by her standards.  _And yet, she had invited him in her bedroom, in the middle of the night, while dressed for bed._ How likely was it that he had assumed she had invited him  _into_  her bed? More importantly, wasn't that what she truly desired? She blushed hard, feeling mortified. She wasn't a promiscuous woman- inviting young, handsome Aurors to her bedroom was not in her nature. There were many unanswered questions hanging between them and it seemed Ron was searching for the answers too.

"You won't be able to be at work for a while," he said, perhaps just to make small talk. She didn't want to have a small talk. She wanted the courage to walk up to him, place her palms on that jawline which had a slight peppering of a copper stubble. She wanted to brush his lips with the pad of her thumb and press her lips onto them…

"I-" she gulped, "-sent them an owl already."

"Right," he replied and blew a puff of air through his mouth. She couldn't help notice his lips as he made that perfect 'O'.

_Now what?_ she pondered. "Now what?" he asked.

"Maybe we both should get some rest- in turns, I mean," she told him and groaned to herself. No wonder she wasn't sorted in Gryffindor. She tinkered with the tie holding her cloak together and fidgeted with her hair that was trying its best to escape the confines of the elastic- all in an attempt to keep her hands to herself.

Ron met her eyes for a minute too long and chuckled. "Sounds good," he replied and her eyes snapped up at him. He was not supposed to agree.

"Are you sleepy?" she asked quietly.

"Not in the least," he replied, a hint of mirth in his words.

"Neither am I. Maybe we could grab a cup of tea?" she suggested.

"That sounds good, too."

"I'll make us some," she offered. Perhaps getting away from him was the only solution to keep her sanity. She pushed herself off the bed in haste, looking anywhere but at him.

"Hermione?" he called from behind, causing to her pause midstep.

"Yes, Ron?"

"Why did you invite me in?" he asked.

"I don't know," she lied. "Maybe because I feel safer with you around. Or perhaps I just wanted you to…"

She heard the scraping of the chair behind her and then his voice was closer. "Wanted me to-?"

"I don't know," she repeated in a whisper. Ron was standing right behind her, just like when he had helped her shut the window. One step back and their bodies would touch- she was craving his warmth anyway. Overcome with emotions she couldn't name, she followed her heart, her back immediately hitting solid chest and even through the rough cloak and his jacket, she could feel everything that made Ron-  _him_.

Placing his hands on her shoulders he slowly turned her around to face him, and she looked into his eyes to find a similar kind of confusion reflect in them. His eyes moved to her lips and his palms cupped her face. She couldn't bear the intensity of his gaze, but she couldn't look away either, or control the random thudding of her heart. As his thumb traced the sensitive spot just at the edge of her lips she let out a small gasp and placed her palms on his chest for support, fisting the warm wool of his jumper.

"Kiss me?" she whispered before she could stop, for it took all the courage she possessed and then some more, searching his eyes, hoping vehemently that she hadn't read the signs wrong.

Ron appeared to still for a moment and then his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he bent lower and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Thought you'd never ask," he whispered close to her mouth before he placed his lips lightly on hers and her eyes fluttered shut.

She moaned as his lips pressed over hers, delicious and tender and almost painfully slow, and she raised her arms to wrap around his neck, tiptoeing to accommodate his height while she pulled him closer.

It was everything her teenaged-self had ever dreamt her first kiss would be. Despite all the pent-up sexual tension between them, the kiss wasn't demanding- it was rather so tender that it made her choke up. The feeling of having someone so close physically was incredible and overwhelming at the same time; she wasn't used to it at all. She had never allowed someone to breach the walls she had built around her heart; Ron was the first person ever. And even then, she had never dared hope that he'd want to be around her, let alone kiss her. But he was and she wanted nothing more than her life to wrap around him.

Ron pulled her lower lip between his and she moaned again, causing his grip on her waist to tighten. Hermione was sure her legs would give way soon; the emotions were much too strong, every single one of her nerve endings was practically on fire, begging for more. Was it possible to feel this ...ecstatic... without bursting into tears? She wasn't sure. She had forgotten how it felt to be happy a long time ago, and  _this_  was so much more. Ron's fragrance was all-encompassing and she was pressing into him further than she had ever imagined possible. They broke apart for air but before she could open her eyes, his lips found hers again. And this time, when his tongue prodded, seeking entrance, she obliged- but just as she had feared, her legs gave way altogether.

Hermione was literally melting in his arms and Ron was beginning to lose control. Never before had he felt such a strong surge of emotion for someone. He really wanted to take it slow, a chaste kiss perhaps although he wanted so much more, but her tiny moans egged him further. It seemed like he had waited a lifetime for her, how on earth was he supposed to stop? Pressing his palms flat on the small of her back, he ran his tongue over her lips and they parted…  _heck_ … he was only human after all…

He held her before she could collapse and was forced to break the kiss. And then she opened her eyes and Ron knew she had marked him as hers … forever.


End file.
